#i do wonder how stuff like fabrics and paint sets were handled after everyone forgot though

[kreachvera]

(staring at the ceiling ) wgat if because everyone in isat world forgot how to see colour everyones just wearing the buttfuck gaudiest colour combinations known to man. and they dont even know

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 45: Skeletons In The Garden

It has been almost a week since I decided to give William a chance. More than that, I decided to earn his trust, no matter what it took. I think I am succeeding so far, but there is a price I have to pay. With every day we spend together in town, with every night we join our bodies into one, we become closer. Just as I have gained his trust, he is beginning to gain mine. I have to constantly remind myself why I came here, but then he looks at me with that smile, that light in his eyes... It takes all my effort not forget the reason I agreed to be with him in the first place.

I sleepily stumble around the kitchen in search of the jar of ground coffee, wearing nothing but William’s dressing gown. I borrowed it again last night to head back to my bedroom and fell asleep in it. Though the sleeves are way too long for me, the fabric is luxurious and soft, and I have taken up the habit of stealing it after our nightly activities.

A few minutes ago, William woke me up without bothering to knock on my door.  He said we were going somewhere, but did not explain any further. I was too tired to ask. Though it is not that early, I have been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with my new vampiric condition. Fuck, this man drives me insane in every way possible: I either want to kiss him, break his nose, or both. That last one gets very confusing, and usually ends up involving lots of bites from me, out of anger, and from him, in retaliation. 

I pour a cup for him before taking my coffee up to my bedroom. I stare at my clothes, which are laid out on the bed, as I drink it. I have been putting off returning to the mansion for my stuff, but I do need more dresses. I would also like to resume my research, so I’ll have to borrow some books for that.

When I return downstairs, empty cup in hand and hair loosely braided, William is waiting for me on the sofa. He offers me a bottle of rouge, and I pet Puck as I take it.

“Today is the troupe’s day off,” I observe.

“I know,” he simply replies. Where is he taking me? As if he could read my mind, he smiles and sips his rouge before explaining. “Dost thou remember how I wanted thee to meet someone?”

I nod, but narrow my eyes as the implication sinks in. Either he really trusts me enough to introduce me to his deranged accomplice, or this is his way to get rid of me once and for all. Sure, he has been nothing but charming and sweet since I moved into his house, but this is William. If there is a God, even He doesn’t know what he’s plotting.

An hour later, our carriage pulls up next to an old church. From the outside, I see no signs of it being used. It looks rather abandoned. However, as we approach the entrance, I catch the scent of burning candles, meaning there must be people inside. What is this place?

The wooden door creaks loudly when William pushes it open, just enough for us to pass through. Once inside, he closes it behind us.

“Please lock that, will you?” a man’s voice chimes from the altar. I cannot see him, but I hear glass tinkering behind the decorative screen in the back.

“Do not worry, we shall be quick,” William says, but obliges anyway. Great, now I am trapped here with a stranger who might have killed me.

He takes my hand and guides me down the nave. Our steps echo ominously under the high stone arches, and I have to take a deep breath to relax. Do not show them you are nervous, Anaïs, for they might take it the wrong way. For God’s sake, act normal.

We walk past the altar and into the ambulatory, where the stranger in question seems to have set up a lab of sorts, packed with all kinds of flasks, beakers, and, uh... medical equipment. Creepy. He is slightly taller than William, slender and dressed in clothing as black as his hair, and wears glasses with a chain around his neck.

“What do we have here?” he asks with a malicious grin that gives me shivers. He has a mild German accent. “Is this the neophyte you mentioned? She would make a fine guinea pig...”

“No, thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at my quick reply, while William chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist.

“My nightshade, this is Johann Georg Faust. Johann, meet Anaïs.”

“Faust like the legend?”

“The very same,” William smiles.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess. So, um... What are you doing there?” I ask, pointing at the collection of scribbled on papers and lab equipment.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fräulein Anaïs. I am sure you would find my experiments rather tedious...”

I ignore the condescending tone of his answer. A sculpture behind him has caught my eye. Faust interrupts his deceivingly polite excuse when I march past him to approach it.

“Oh, hell no,” I mumble. “María, cariño, ¿qué te han hecho? (Mary, honey, what have they done to you?)”

 I reach up to touch the Virgin’s gilded coat and, sure enough, the gold leaf crumbles in my fingers, leaving behind a glittery mess. I turn to the bespectacled man, only for my look of indignation to be met with his, equal parts intrigued and offended.

“She’s falling apart! See?” I show the golden dust on my palm to the two men. “I need to fix this before it gets-” Oh no he didn’t. Right beside Faust, on his work table, I see a clean rag neatly folded beside a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Carbolic acid’, the label reads. I bring the cloth to my nose and immediately put two and two together. “You wiped it with phenol?!” I exclaim, incredulous, as I furiously wave the rag around. “I don’t know why you needed to disinfect poor Mary over here in the first place, but for fuck’s sake, don’t do it again. God, no wonder everyone hates this stupid century, y’all discover something and decide to use it for everything without ever thinking about what it might do.”

“Everyone?” William asks, confused.

“This century?” Faust says almost at the same time.

“In my line of work, I mean,” I explain, completely ignoring the second question. I am not sure how safe it would be for me to mention that I come from the future. “Seriously, the amount of damage I’ve had to undo is insane. Why you people use so many questionable compounds is beyond me. Can I borrow a scalpel?”

“You came through the door,” Faust states. Shit, I guess he knows about it.

“Yes, I’m from the future,” I sigh, before grabbing a scalpel myself, not bothering to wait for permission.

I return my focus to the sculpture and carefully examine it. The state it is in is poorer than I had previously noticed. Judging by the proportions, it looks gothic. That makes it around 300 years old at least. Though the passage of time has obviously taken its toll, I have no doubt that its degradation has been made worse by well-meaning yet ignorant attempts at preserving it. Or, in Faust’s case, by his attempt to prep the area for whatever freaky surgical shit he has going on here. I must admit, the fact that he allegedly sold his soul to the devil for knowledge does not exactly reassure me about his intentions.

“The year 2020, to be exact,” I continue as I awkwardly manoeuvre around the sculpture to scrape some paint and gesso off the back in order to check the state of the wood underneath. “I’m guessing you’re not a pureblood... Do you know how to use a shotgun, by any chance?” I ask casually without looking up from my delicate task.

“Is this about Salieri?” Judging by Faust’s tone, I can tell he is rolling his eyes. “That would be Charles,” he sighs. Whoever this Charles is, Faust sounds like a bored babysitter. He has no interest in the conversation whatsoever. “May I have my scalpel back? You’re going to blunt it.”

“I’m almost done.” I manage to cut a cross section just in time to see him approach and forcibly take the sharp object from my hand. I then make my way back to the work table and search for what I need, carefully holding the thin slice of wood and gesso between my fingers. “Do you have a... What are they called, those round looky things with the handle?”

“Magnifying glass,” William aids.

“Yeah, that. Actually,” I change my mind when I see a pile of neatly stacked glass slides, “I’m gonna take one of these. I forgot that microscopes already exist. Where is yours, anyway?”

“Safely locked away,” the alchemist deadpans. Oh well, it looks like I’ll have to save my sample for later, then.

William takes my hand and gently ushers me away from the improvised lab, I assume to stop me from annoying its owner any further. Though he acts polite, I can tell it is nothing more than a weak façade that could drop any second.

“My dearest,” he says, “we should move on to the reason of our visit?”

“Vlad, was it?” I nod. He merely mentioned the name in passing days ago, but I have hung onto that minuscule snippet of information like my life depends on it. It might.

He leads me to a discrete door nestled in the corner of the transept to our left. Before we can reach it, however, Faust calls out from behind the altar.

“I look forward to studying you, fräulein.”

“Well, I do not!” I sing in response. He lets out an unnerving chuckle that I decide to ignore.

I follow William through the door and up a dark staircase. As we walk along the hallway, I get the feeling that he does not know exactly where he is leading me, either. Still, he finds the person he was looking for inside a small room. It looks like it had been used for storage in the past, but now is completely empty save for a desk and a few chairs. The white haired man sitting on one of them looks up when we enter through the already open door. This must be him. The pureblood that is going after the residents.

He is strikingly beautiful, despite the unnervingly red shade of his eyes. Dressed in expensive clothes, he moves elegantly to greet me. I instinctively do the polite thing and offer my hand for him to hold.

“Anaïs Bertran, I presume?” His voice is slightly breathy, and as delicately controlled as his poise. “You are as beautiful as a rose.”

I do not dare to complain out loud, but I give William an exasperated look, causing him to laugh. I smack his arm.

“Stop being a dickhead,” I scold him, even though I have to hold back a smile.

“Ah, I see you have thorns as well,” the other man chuckles. “It is rare for such a pretty flower to be so foul mouthed. I must confess I appreciate it, it adds character. Was that some kind of joke between you two?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I sigh. “I just think there are more interesting flowers to be compared to.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, lisianthus, dahlias... Sunflowers are pretty nifty, and I’ve always liked orchids. People tend to think they’re really hard to grow, for some reason, but they just need a bit of attention and the right amount of light. Chrysanthemums are also really cool...” I ramble.

“Those are an old favorite of mine, but not as much as roses, I’m afraid. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“Is it that obvious?” I chuckle, embarrassed. “But yeah, I worked as a florist for a few years.”

“Oh?” he smiles. “I own a flower shop in town. I sense we are going to get along well, Anaïs. Oh my, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself. You may call me Vlad.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I politely say before tilting my head. “I have to say, I find it a bit strange to be here, speaking to you. I mean, you sent a sniper after Salieri to stop him from revealing your identity, yet here we are, being formally introduced,” I remark.

“Yes, I am well aware of the incident that took place. Quite a fortunate outcome you got, don’t you think?”

“If by fortunate you mean bleeding out in a sewer, then sure, but I beg to differ.” A cold smile accompanies my response. Not only did dying obliterate any semblance of a schedule I had, it also caused me to be turned into... this. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d rather not go through the pain of being a neophyte, or whatever these people call it. 

“Pardon my crudeness, but isn’t that what happens when you jump in front of a bullet that is not meant for you?” Vlad quips.

“Yeah... That is the stupidest thing I have ever done, can’t argue with that logic,” I mutter, resigned. “By the way, if you’re gonna play with gunpowder inside a tunnel, I’d recommend finding another one that isn’t full of highly flammable methane gas. Just a tip,” I wink.

Our tense exchange is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Under it stands another man with a boyish smile and shaggy hair.

“I bought those strawberries you- Oh.” He pauses when he sees me, his eyes growing wide in recognition. “Hello there.”

“Are you Charles?” I innocently ask, approaching him. When he nods, I smirk. 

There is no warning when I grab his jacket and shoot my knee into his groin at full force. I hear William’s incredulous snort behind me, along with a muffled chuckle belonging to Vlad.

“Argh, putain!” Charles groans, folding over in pain. I observe him as I wait for him to recover. “Why?” he cries from the floor. I simply pull my dress down to reveal the scar on my cleavage. His mouth opens and closes quickly, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry, just had to get that out of my system,” I explain with no trace in my voice of the violence I just displayed. “I’m Anaïs,” I smile, offering my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. The boyish grin returns to his face as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“I am so sorry about shooting you, it was an accident. You jumped out of nowhere! I didn’t even want to in the first place, but- Ehem, sorry.”

I follow his gaze when he suddenly interrupts himself with a fake cough. Vlad’s eyes are slightly narrowed in what I can only assume is a look of warning. Okay, something’s going on. Well, yet another thing, on top of the long list of unexplained actions from this strange group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say before the silence becomes awkward, “we’re even now.” I turn to the pureblood and look at him inquisitively. “Anyway, I have a lot of questions. I don’t want to judge until I know exactly what your intentions are for doing whatever it is you’re doing. I have to admit I am finding it hard to keep my emotions under control, so we better get on with it, yeah?”

I do not need to justify my volatile state. Vlad knows perfectly well that he was the one to cause it.