"Excuse me? You rude maggot. If this is the company you keep, you're going to end up twisted. Even more, I mean," he added, looking not at him, but at Amy, of course. He'd come here for her. For her.
So what?
Did he think they were going to stare? That they were going to let him do this?
He might be a monster, but that didn't mean he was stupid too. In fact, quite the contrary, all the biggest monsters were themselves devilishly clever.
That made it easier to perpetrate their monstrosities, and to appear normal.
That's why, hearing how Desmond had received him, he must have realised that he knew the truth. But he still acted as if there was nothing they could do.
As if he was going to walk out of here, unpunished, dragging his prize behind him.
Everything he knew about this man was abhorrent.
It all did nothing but fuel his rage.
Amy shrank in on herself even more. Inwardly, like a snail hiding in its shell.
Of course.
She had found it difficult to even talk to him about him, not so long ago. How was she going to handle being face to face with her abuser once again? She had the power to tear him apart if she wanted to, but she felt powerless in front of him.
The monster began to walk towards her.
Desmond got in its way and pushed it back, not as hard as he should have; his shove managed to knock it off balance, but not to knock it to the ground, or even hurt it.
"Get out of my sight. Right now," he said slowly, measuring every word. Because his rage was about to explode.
"You again. Why are you making that face? If you know who I am, you also know that it's natural for me to be here. Or are you saying that a father has no right to visit his daughter?"
Those simple words put a stop to his thoughts.
Father. Daughter.
This thing before him, this subhuman waste, was Amy's father?
Desmond clenched his fists.
Don't you fuck with me! You... You!
"You're her father? Someone like you is her father?"
It looked at him. And Desmond realised that this was the first time it'd looked at him since it'd entered the room, despite the little conversation they'd had, despite everything.
The first time.
The other times, its eyes had passed through him as if he wasn't here.
Or as if he were a picture on the wall, or a piece of furniture, not a person.
Desmond felt a chill.
This man was no threat to him, but he felt a shudder at its inhumanity. How could he do that? Not see the people around him as people, grant them at least that dignity?
A part of him, the part that always had to attack himself, that saw himself as his own greatest enemy, told him that this was strikingly similar to how he was treating this man.
Similar... or rather identical.
But it wasn't. It wasn't.
It wasn't, because Desmond recognised the man in front of him. He recognised him for the monster he was. That's precisely why his eyes couldn't pass through him.
He couldn't ignore the fact that he was in the same room as such a monstrosity.
Breathing the same air as this demon.
Yes. He shouldn't be able to breathe.
The demon's eyes went back to Amy. Not his daughter. He wasn't going to refer to her that way. She wasn't his daughter.
"So you've told him... All of it?"
Then his face twisted all over.
Like he was melting, or something. In any case, it really did look like his face had moved in ways a human face couldn't move. It was creepy.
Desmond was scared.
Fuck, he was scared, even him.
Why was he scared?
Christina had locked eyes with the intruder, setting the book aside, but she hadn't gotten out of bed. She hadn't done anything, yet.
Same as him.
"Come here. Right now."
The monster took a step forward, to devour its victim.
Desmond stood in its way again.
"No!"
But this time, this time he wasn't going to stop. He slammed that creature against the wall, putting a hand on its neck. Indignation and rage melted and mingled, turning to fear.
He was glad to see that.
If only he had looked at him with the same expression of cold indifference.
As if it didn't matter, as if he couldn't do anything to him....
Desmond would have snapped his neck in an instant.
"Listen to me, you human scum, and listen to me well. You're not going to lay a hand on her again. She's not going anywhere with you. "Desmond punched the wall next to the scum's head. His fist was reinforced, so the blow, if it had hit, no, even if it had grazed him, would have made his head burst like a melon.
Quick steps.
Amy walked up to him and put her hands on one arm, the free arm, pulling him back slightly. He could barely feel it.
"Let go. Desmond... please... You don't know what..."
The monster grinned grotesquely, showing all its teeth.
That smile so satisfied, so full... Yes, as if it had just finished a feast, greedily devouring it...
It got on his nerves.
He felt something explode inside him.
He felt himself sinking into the depths of an unfathomable sea.
That sensation was something he had felt before. Familiar, for some reason. It wasn't the outburst of rage. Of murderous intent. It wasn't even the urge to get revenge, albeit again in someone else's place instead of just thinking of himself.
No, it was...
Something else.
It could only go so far. He couldn't tell what this thing was.
But he didn't care in the slightest.
All he cared about was the man he was holding by the neck. That man had become his whole world.
What revealed to him what was happening to him was the reaction of the others. Those reactions brought him out of his reverie. Especially the rubbish he was about to throw away. Now that trash looked really scared. As if he had admitted to himself for the first time that he had lost control of the situation, or that he had never had it in the first place.
They were looking at him, all of them, with a certain fear and... and... as if they didn't know what they were seeing.
No. Not him. A...
At the wall behind him.
Black wings were spreading on that wall. Not like in the fight against the Empire's mechanical spider, it seemed so long ago. The wings were not coming out of his back.
When he said they were spreading on the wall, he meant it in a very literal way.
They were... like burning into the wall. Growing little by little.
The floor and the walls were shaking.
The ringing wasn't in his ears. It was because of those tremors. It was... What, what was this? Abigail hadn't warned him about this.
Did it matter?
Something had exploded inside him.
He had sunk into the depths of an ocean of something.
And that something, without a doubt, was in both cases power. Pure power. The same power that had made his saviour immortal was coursing through his veins.
If such power could defy even death, what was such a trifle as simply making him more powerful in comparison?
There was nothing strange about it. Nor was it worrisome.
In fact, why had he held back before he even knew this? Why hadn't he simply snapped his neck, getting it over with, already?
If there was a reasonable reason for that, he couldn't remember it.
Every breath trash like him took in this world was wasted.
He heard a crunch.
But it wasn't the crack of this wreck's neck snapping like a dry twig. Not because he'd backed out again, at least.
No.
It was because Christina had stopped him on the spot, using her own shadow against him, to bind his arms. He couldn't believe it, but it was true. He saw it with his own eyes.
Not just the shadows, but her holding the book, a look of determination on her face.
Determination for what? For what?
For this wreck to live? Yes, he couldn't believe it. Christina didn't know the whole story, but she knew part of it. Well enough.
She should know as well as he did that they had to kill him and bury the body.
That they couldn't let this monster get his hands on Amy again.
Yet she was resisting him. Even if his only goal was to get justice.
This was the right thing to do.
This was the right thing to do.
They were going to be soldiers, no, they already were, and what soldiers did was protect the innocent. They could worry about everything else afterwards. This monster had to die.
He glared at her.
Christina grimaced as if his gaze had been a threat.
As if... As if she was willing to fight him, to stop this. Willing to go that far.
"You should know your place," said the wretch. He shouldn't be able to speak, but he could, for Desmond had relaxed his grip unconsciously. Just enough for him to mumble with false courage. "It doesn't matter what power you have. I matter. You don't. You want to kill me? Go ahead. But as a consequence, you will also kill all the people in this room with your bare hands."
Another crack.
Again, not because he'd had enough and broken his neck.
Desmond glanced back and up.
There was a crack stretching across the ceiling of the room. If his power continued to be unleashed like this, the ceiling would eventually fall in on them.
But that was another matter. As for the words of that scum whose name he didn't even know.... Unfortunately, he was right. He didn't want to calm down. He didn't want to regain control of himself, because every fiber of his being cried out for justice, but he was right.
Even in the best-case scenario, he would be the only one prosecuted by the law.
But they would all pay the consequences. At the very least, Amy and Christina's reputation, and the reputation of their families, would be severely damaged.
No one wants to associate with people who might have been capable of spilling the blood of one of their own countrymen.
Especially in times of war.
It wouldn't be proven that they had helped with the murder, of course, but there would always be doubt except for those who had been present. And that would be enough to ruin their lives.
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By breaking the neck of this insect, he would be taking so much away from them.
He felt sick.
This was wrong. This was so wrong. He shouldn't let a deranged man like this on the loose....
"Desmond," he looked at Amy, who had spoken. "Please."
He had no choice.
He let go, letting him fall to the floor. The tremors stopped with his decision. The unleashed power returned deep within him, dormant, but latent. He could feel it. Like the weight of his sword in his hand, almost.
The husk was straining for breath, bringing his hands to his neck as if to strangle himself.
If only. If only he would save them all the trouble, this miserable existence that even obscured the sunlight.
But no, of course.
Just writhing on the ground, he was complaining about getting what he deserved.
It was pathetic. He would have felt sorry for him, except that his very existence was like a festering wound in the fabric of the world.
"Thank you," said Amy, breathlessly.
Thank you for talking a lot and doing nothing.
Thank you for leaving my abuser alive? Is that what she meant? Ha!
The idea sounded ridiculous, but it was true, she had wanted this.
Though wanted was too strong a word. She had simply concluded, quite rationally, that this was the least bad thing that could happen. But what now?
If he couldn't kill the enemy in front of him, what now?
He had yet to meet an enemy he could not deal with his sword. His battles had always ended only one way.
This was as serious as a fight to the death, but it couldn't be resolved in the same way.
I feel sick, this is wrong. I feel sick, this is wrong, wrong, wrong....
"I'll make you pay for this. You and your whole filthy family," he threatened, coughing and wheezing, "I'll wipe you off the fucking face of the earth. It's an oath. You will not go unpunished."
Desmond clenched his fists.
So he meant to fuck him over, whatever he did. Well, that made things easier... That made things easier... That's what he should say, but now that he'd taken a moment to think things through, he still wanted to wring his neck, but it seemed impossible to him that it would work.
Even if they hid the body. Even if they reduced him to ashes.
Sooner or later, it would come out, and everything would fall apart.
Yes, it would.
Even if it was the only thing he wanted to do, he had to restrain himself. He knew that. He relaxed his fists.
Besides...
"How?" Desmond challenged him openly. "There's no other witness and you're outnumbered. Money gives you a lot of options, even extra credibility, but the odds wouldn't be in your favor with even your own...."
Desmond paused momentarily, searching for a better word, or a better way to put it.
There wasn't one. No matter how bad a taste it left in his mouth.
"Daughter speaking against you. Besides, Christina here is also a person of some influence. Not to mention the fact that I simply haven't done anything. The investigation would get nowhere no matter how much money you throw at it."
He was surprised that the demon had stared at him without interrupting. When he finished, he knew why.
When he burst out laughing.
"Ah, but you're serious. The stupidity of youth! How many people do you think I've managed to put in prison for no reason, other than that it was my will? Either you are ignorant, or you underestimate me. Now that I have legitimate motives, ruining your life would be even easier."
Desmond frowned.
He was lying. Of course, he was lying.
Things might play out that way if they were on the other side of the world, where the law was at best a suggestion, at worst a sham.
But not here. The Albionese were different.
Kinder. Purer.
More humane. It couldn't be that the judicial system in the kingdom of Albion was nothing more than a bad joke. Surely there had been mistakes from time to time, but something like that simply couldn't be true.
"You're too late," Desmond said, instead of anything he might have said instead. "My parents are dead. My sister too. Long dead. Right now... the only people I care about in this world are almost all on this team. One of them is your "daughter". You're a businessman, right? How would it benefit you to tarnish her reputation? You would only tarnish yours indirectly."
"Reputational stains can be washed away. As can blood."
"I see. So that's your answer."
Desmond had no doubt that he had washed both the blood and his reputation clean enough times, to the point where it would be routine for him. That's why he had risen to the top.
Crushing all his competitors, no matter what the method.
It's not as if you couldn't get anywhere except by such methods, but this wreck who wasn't even human hadn't done it.
He himself had admitted as much.
"You really are despicable," Desmond said, practically spitting. "The world is a colder, darker place than before, just knowing that someone like you is in it. You are a violation, an insult to nature."
The demon stood up, dusting his clothes off with his hands.
And, without fear, he looked into Desmond's eyes.
Without fear, also without indifference, but with a smile. And that was worse than indifference. To know that he was enjoying it like a torturer, that he had surely enjoyed every similar moment with Amy, every wound he had inflicted on the poor girl.
"Come on, you go on, go on, go on, come on. There's no harm done. You're just adding fuel to the fire. In any case, are you sure I'm the kind of person you think I am? After all, you've only known this girl...For what, a month and four days? You think you know her like you're her childhood friend or something? You think she can't fool you, that you have nothing to discover?"
"What are you saying?"
"That you only have her side of the story. You only know what she's told you. And believe me, kid, in business you meet a lot of tremendously convincing people... who only say what's good for themselves."
"And you're one of those people. A very convincing snake."
"I'm not going to deny it. I'm good at it. That's why I've come so far. But am I wrong? Don't you have any reason to doubt?"
"How can you say that?" Amy asked, her voice full of indignation.
There was no power in that voice yet. Not in front of this monster. But that was a good sign, he supposed. That she'd been able to speak, even if she hadn't been able to look at him. That she had reacted.
The monster didn't respond by mocking her. It did, perhaps, something worse: it simply ignored her. As if her voice had not reached his ears.
"She's not lying," Desmond said, gritting his teeth. "She couldn't possibly have lied to me about something like that."
"Oh? And what makes you so sure? Are you horny, dog? Are you wagging your tail and running after my daughter? Is that what this is about?"
His words were so sudden, so shocking, that it took him seconds to believe he'd actually heard what he'd heard. So vulgar, so perverse. As if that was the only reason for a man to defend a woman.
And then a horrible possibility rose to the surface of his mind.
"Have you... Have you touched her?" His voice vibrated with rage.
The monster's grin widened even more.
"So what if I have?"
Now he wouldn't be able to stop.
Desmond kicked him in the face. Not with his full strength, not by strengthening his leg.
He wanted to kill him, but a painless, quick death wasn't enough for a monster like this. He deserved to suffer as he had made others suffer. He deserved to know how terrifying it was not to be in control, regardless of all his power and all his money, before he expired.
The kick blew out a tooth, along with a splatter of blood.
The inhuman trash fell at his feet, gasping and grunting. Blood slipped between his lips and fell to the ground, forming a small puddle.
"You miserable son of a bitch. You're going to pay." Desmond grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the wall again, without a care in the world. Even without the use of physical reinforcement magic, he could handle this trash like a doll. You're going to pay dearly for this.
Amy stopped his fist.
"Stop it. That's not true. He didn't touch me. Not like that."
Desmond looked into her eyes.
He didn't see a lie there. He didn't think she'd lie about such a horrible, traumatic experience in the first place just so he'd spare the life of this sack of shit lying at his feet.
Maybe she would have been willing to humiliate herself like that, to deny what had happened to her, what tormented her, to go that far for him. For the team.
But she didn't think she would have achieved it.
Desmond didn't think she or anyone else would be capable of lying about something like that.
If she had lied, he would have noticed. Even someone like him who had so many things going over his head.
He let go of her shoulder.
"I don't know why you came here, and I don't care in the slightest." Desmond pointed a finger at the door. "Get out of here. Right now."
The wretch got to his feet again. His legs were still shaking from the force of the impact.
"You broke my tooth," he said, his voice trembling with rage. "It didn't matter that it was nothing that couldn't be fixed in a few seconds with a visit to the infirmary. He spoke as if he had committed the greatest conceivable offense against him."
"I should have broken your fucking neck. So don't tempt me. Get out."
"I'll deal with you later, believe me. But now..."
"You won't," Amy said, with surprising firmness.
He wasn't the only one surprised by this. That monster was looking at her as if examining her, as if seeing her for the first time. But the most surprised, it seemed, was Amy herself.
"Now you think you can defy me?"
Amy slowly shook her head.
"No. Because you win."
Another big surprise.
This time it was like a bombshell dropping. Desmond had thought she was beginning to show resistance, to muster the courage to face her abuser.
But no, quite the opposite.
She wouldn't fight back. She didn't even think there was a chance of winning.
That's why she would throw the fight before it even started for real.
"Why?"
It was not the sinister demon who asked the question, but Desmond himself. He couldn't conceive of a reason for doing something like this.
Amy looked at him silently, her eyes glistening with tears.
He supposed that was answer enough.
Yes. The only answer there was, he had already known without needing to ask her any questions.
"Because, it seems, she recognizes her place at last."
Desmond turned to the scum, gritting his teeth. But he held back. Again he held back.
Like a coward.
He didn't understand anything, and he wanted to understand what was going on here.
"Get out of here. I'm going to pack my things."
The demon left the room without even saying goodbye or rejoicing in his victory. Rather, the small smile on his bloodstained face was one of satisfaction and relief that the world made sense again.
Everything in its place. Everything as he wanted it.
The closing door sounded like a shotgun blast.
"What are you doing? "Christina asked. "This is... completely unnecessary. You passed the test, Amy. If not by age, in the eyes of the law you are an adult, entitled to make your own decisions. He can't force you, whatever he does, to leave with him. You don't have to do this at all."
Every word that had come out of Christina's mouth was completely true, of course.
She saw the conflict in Amy's expression at that.
"So...? I don't understand you."
"I'm doing it for you. "Amy's strained voice made it clear she was fighting back tears. "Do you think he was joking when he said he could ruin your lives? Do you think he wouldn't be capable, physically and mentally? Of course he can! And I can't let him... I can't let..."
"My life is the only one in danger," said Desmond. "Because I threatened him. If he can do anything to anyone, it's me. You're not going to that monster to save me. I won't allow it."
Amy looked into his eyes. She had started to cry silently. He wanted to brush those tears away with his fingertips. He wanted to hold her and never, ever, ever, ever let her go.
But he didn't.
Amy probably felt the same way, but she didn't either. Desmond said this because she had a look on her face as if they were never going to see each other again.
"It's not like that, Desmond. You don't have to feel guilty. Things would have ended up this way, even if you'd controlled yourself."
"Then you should..."
Live your life, he was going to say. But Amy cut him off.
"It's okay. It really is. Deep down, I was prepared for things to end like this from the beginning. This... was just my dream. But there always has to come a time when the dreamer wakes up."
Silence fell over the room. Desmond had the sudden sensation that the walls were closing in around him, slowly crushing him.
Amy smiled.
As tears streamed down her face.
"I will remember you fondly."
■
Christina hugged her.
Amy, a little surprised by her intensity, hugged her back. She wanted to say something meaningful, but remained silent. For a while now, she had done nothing but shiver and cry, doing what she had to do in silence.
Now it was no different. She couldn't speak.
This was something she had to do, painful as it was. A part of her told her that there was still time to back out.
But the rest of her was aware that there was no turning back.
And that she had no choice.
She never had, but she had tried to fool herself. She had succeeded, living this beautiful dream however brief it would have turned out to be.
Since she couldn't speak, Christina spoke instead.
"This doesn't have to end in a handful of beautiful memories. Fight it. We're still a team, Amy. We always will be."
Her voice was full of powerful emotion.
Still, Amy smiled into her arms, thinking that it was only a matter of time before she would be forgotten and that yes, that's precisely what this would be reduced to: a handful of fond memories.
Something like a dream, because it would seem too good for it to have actually happened to her.
“Always," she murmured.
Sometimes the kindest thing to do was to lie.
If you couldn't lie to yourself, at least you could lie to others, so they could see you go with a sense of peace in their hearts.
At least, that's what she believed.
She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to leave, but... If she stayed, she would lose this too, only more slowly and painfully. So obeying the freak she had for a father was, without a doubt, the right decision.
The cowardly one, an inner voice whispered to her.
Christina broke away from her, and it was Desmond's turn. No tears, not yet, at least, but he was as mute as she was. She could feel him trembling against her.
"I'll find a way," the boy said.
No, you won't. That's up to me, and I've already lost the battle. In body and spirit.
She tried to say something foolish to make him feel better, but she was suddenly faced with a great obstacle.
A lump in her throat.
"Will you promise me?"
Like a child who needed to feel safe.
As if she really believed that he could keep his promise.
How ridiculous, she thought, biting her lips.
"Yes. I promise. I promise."
■
"What are you planning to do?" Those were the first words out of the man's mouth as soon as she entered the limousine.
Most people had to make do with public transport.
Very few people could enjoy a personal vehicle.
People like this man, one of the most powerful in the kingdom, in terms of money and influence.
"Nothing. I told you. You've won."
"And I'm supposed to believe that? That, after all this time, you're going to meekly accede to my demands?"
"Yes."
The man didn't slap her or grab her by the hair, pulling.
He simply snorted and looked away. She supposed Desmond's display of power had left him too shocked to do that so soon, though he was doing a good job of hiding it.
That man wasn't driving the vehicle. Of course he wasn't. That's why he had so much money, so he wouldn't have to do inconvenient things like that. Not to mention that, she knew well, he enjoyed the power to make a person go back and forth for the sole purpose of serving his needs.
Learning to drive the vehicle wouldn't be so much fun.
Disgusting.
Everything about him was disgusting. She had never found anything remotely good about him. Long, long ago... she had come to believe that the abomination loved him, deep down.
For the little moments of kindness, he showed from time to time.
Now she knew that was just him spewing venom. Not something she should be grateful for. In fact, surely those moments had been nowhere near as kind as she remembered them.
Half of it had surely been in her head.
Because one had to hold on to something, in the worst of times.
And if there was nothing, one had to create it.
Yes, surely that was what it was all about. She couldn't even imagine a hint of sincere kindness coming from this man.
He didn't seem human.
More like a monster in human skin. She had suffered after killing the Empire's soldiers, even though they had come for them, to slaughter them all.
Every death she had caused had come together, becoming a weight on her soul.
It had taken her a while to make that weight lighter. But it still weighed on her.
This thing, though?
Amy knew she would surely sleep like a baby if this man died, that he was so repugnant to her that even the sound of his name made her gag.
Amy would cut his throat, pull out his entrails, and feel nothing.
Not even relief, as she feared, probably.
But she would feel nothing.
The hours passed surprisingly quickly, being trapped in this vehicle with a wild animal. About three hours, give or take.
The vehicle was stopped in front of the golden gates of a building similar to those gates.
That is to say, too big, too ostentatious.
And too cold, as if it expelled any trace of humanity from any of the people who lived there. As if it absorbed it. That building was her beautiful golden cage.
Where, like a sick bird, she would spend the rest of her days before dying.
Without freedom.
Without being able to spread her wings. Ah, if only she had wings...
She would be locked in that gold-tinged darkness for the rest of her days. As the thought crossed her mind, her stomach lurched. Bile rose in her throat.
Amy swallowed the urge to vomit, as well as the urge to run away.
She had run away enough, and this was the result.
It was her fate. It was her fate.
Before she knew it, they had crossed not only the gilded entrance gates that served only for show, but also the heavy wooden doors of the mansion.
In other words, before she knew it, the door of the cage closed behind her. And the decision was forever out of her reach.
She felt, for some reason, like laughing.
She stopped herself somehow, barely.
The next thing out of her mouth was a gasp of pain.
She knew before she registered what had happened, that he had caught her by the hair as she had expected, that hell had begun again.
Amy didn't protest.
She didn't struggle.
She didn't cry out for help, even. Knowing that help would never come.
She just hid deep inside herself, to wait for it all to be over, as she always did.
She was dragged upstairs.
She was dragged into what had been her room and thrown to the floor.
Her urge to vomit increased.
Since the man hadn't come back for her after the attack on the academy, using that as an excuse to bring her back under his control again, she had deluded herself.
She had told herself that he would let her stay for at least four years.
Not because she had won, but because he didn't care deep down. Because he believed, in his arrogance, that sooner or later she would come back to him.
She would never have expected him to come back just now.
She hadn't been prepared at all.
He... Had he anticipated it? Had he waited so long on purpose?
Knowing him, it was possible.
"You said I won. If so, I am very pleased, Amy, my child. But I'm not satisfied." He took a few more steps and crouched down in front of her, his hands on his knees. She wouldn't look at him. "You've been defying me for so long. Spitting in my face. And that can't go unpunished. Not to mention what that friend of yours did, and what he threatened to do. You understand it's not my fault, right? That you're forcing me to do this?"
Amy slowly raised her head.
Then she moved her head, as if to nod....
But what she actually did was spit in his face.
The stupefaction on his face made her unable to contain the urge to burst out laughing. That had only made her situation even worse. Even more, he would do his best to break her spirit.
But now, at least, it felt good. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
And for that she couldn't stop laughing, expressing her joy.
That man slapped her face to shut her up.
He stood up, preparing himself, and the living nightmare began again. Here, in her golden cage, where one was not even allowed to dream of escape. Where dreams came to die.