Allure Of The Night

Vincent reached Darthmore earlier than Patton, who was still on his way travelling back to the Council in the carriage. The pureblooded vampire was short on time and wanted to return to Eve quickly, after what she went through at the hands of the townsfolk.

When he walked towards the building, one of his men quickly appeared and bowed, “Mr. Moriarty, the bodies are in the laboratory. The Head Council wants to see you in his chamber.”

“I am sure he does,” Vincent started to walk towards Clayton’s chamber. Upon reaching the front of the Head Council’s room, the small boy-like vampire invited him,

“Come in, Vincent. I am guessing Patton has already informed you about the bodies found?” Questioned Clayton, who sat behind his desk, and it looked as if his head floated above the edge of the desk. “Sylvester told Hart that you are the one who has been digging and burying body. How many more should I expect?” There was a deep frown on the young-looking vampire’s face as he stared at the silver-haired vampire.

Vincent stared right back at Clayton before he shrugged, “Frankly, none from my side. All of mine were already dug out.”

Clayton pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “I knew it.”

“Why is Sylvester pointing his fingers at me? Unhappy,  that I put him in the dungeon?” Vincent questioned while pulling the chair in front of the desk and sitting down.

Clayton dropped his hand and glared at Vincent, “That’s what Stoker believes, but Hart is suspecting it to be you. There’s no proof, which turns Sylvester’s words baseless, doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched, Vincent. I told you to stop your killing spree.”

“You would be surprised how careful I have been today. Didn’t kill even a single person even though I wanted to,” Vincent offered a bright smile to Clayton, who only continued to frown. He said, “Sylvester’s hands are tied and the guards in the dungeon are my men. Did you know that the Duke of Woodlock visited him in the dungeon, but they didn’t share many words?”

“You think Noah is involved in Fowler’s death?” Clayton asked, slightly taken aback. “A lot of people came to see Sylvester at the dungeon.”

“I am not saying he is, but the two of them do seem close. Did you interrogate him?”

“Sylvester claims he has nothing to do with Fowler’s death. He said he’s being set up by someone,” Clayton moved his hands away from the desk as he leaned back against his chair. “Of course, the proofs are there, but he isn’t willing to accept Fowler’s death on his hands. The Duke has been inquired about it too, but he said he is as shocked as others to know that Sylvester planned Fowler’s death.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I called him for interrogation again, would you?”

Noticing the sinister look in Vincent’s eyes, Clayton’s eyes narrowed, and he replied, “I don’t see any harm in it. Why are you suddenly so interested in him?”

“I have always been interested in him,” hummed Vincent while tapping his fingernail on the surface of the desk. Noah Sullivan was no longer just a Duke in the eyes of the pureblooded vampire. The werewolf was a man who liked Eve, and Vincent knew Eve’s feelings in the past had wavered towards the person.

Clayton sighed in frustration, as he didn’t know who else was burying bodies around the land assigned to the Council. When his eyes fell on the drops of blood on Vincent’s shirt, he questioned, “I didn’t know you were working.”

“I wasn’t,” Vincent answered, and Clayton pursed his lips. “It was all for good reasons, and you would be happy if you knew.”

“One would think that after all these years, I would have gotten used to the way you approach things,” the frown on Clayton’s forehead deepened, and though he had the appearance of a young boy, his forehead said otherwise with the subtle lines on it. “Who was it?”

“Men and women of Meadow,” chirped Vincent, and the Head Council turned confused. “They were having a witch hunt and I thought to return the favour. Don’t worry, they are all alive.”

Wasn’t that the same town that Vincent’s governess belonged to? If the pureblooded vampire had decided to meddle in it, it was possible that the ‘witch’ here was none other than the governess. Clayton shook his head,

“I would have never thought for you to care for a human. A woman at that.” He said it because Vincent’s mother was a human, and unable to defend herself or her children, she had died. Not to mention, the man who had killed the former Moriarty Viscountess was a human.

Vincent stared at Clayton before his lips turned into a crooked smile, “On that account you wouldn’t mind if I did something more, would you?”

The Head Council held a weary look and said, “I will. I don’t need a midnight mass murder.”

“Oh hush, now. I am not so petty to murder people. Not always,” said Vincent, pulling his hand away from the desk and checking his nails.

“But you are petty enough to pull something,” Clayton held a dead expression on his face, wishing Vincent didn’t tell him what trouble he was up to, and now that he did, he glared at him. Schooling his expression, he questioned, “Why go to such lengths for a woman you only like. Or is it because she’s the only one you can stand being around?”

The question wasn’t about why anymore. But if he had to answer, the answer was simple. He didn’t like seeing tears in her eyes.

Having been buried in work since yesterday, the thoughts about the mermaid had not surfaced to the front until he had travelled back home. Not that she had disappeared from the back of his mind.

It was the content in Eve’s letter that had angered him. The silly mermaid had failed to understand what he meant when he said he owned her life. But it was the thought of her not being around left a gap that he hadn’t foreseen. His blood boiled, remembering what he saw in Meadow. Anger simmered beneath his skin that hadn’t cooled down after seeing what they had done to her.

It was the second time Vincent had seen Eve with a broken expression, and this time it was far worse than the last time. He wanted to protect her, not because she was a mermaid anymore, but because of who she was.

Today, Vincent realised that he was bound to worry about Eve for the rest of his life.

He remembered her eyes threatening to spill the tears she had been holding back and her cheeks tinting pink. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back that once again fell on his forehead and in time noticed Clayton watching him.

“I know I am the apple of your eye, but you don’t have to stare that hard,” remarked Vincent and Clayton rolled his eyes.

“I feel like throwing up,” the head of the Council muttered.

Vincent turned to look at the clock on the wall, counting the time that had passed since he had left Eve back in Meadow. He wanted to wrap the matters here so that he could return to her, hoping the magistrate was making sure no other townsfolk would come to bother her again.

After some time, the woman who worked in the Council’s laboratory knocked on the door of the Head Council’s chamber.

“What do you have, Clarks?” Clayton questioned her.

“Sire, the skeletons are older than a decade or or two. They aren’t recently buried skeletons,” Clarks informed, and Vincent whistled at it.

Clayton nodded and stated, “Looks like Vincent escapes the need to be interrogated as Sylvester’s claims have proved to be wrong.” He said to Vincent, “We need to find which other person has been burying the bodies. Guards have already been placed, which makes the surroundings impossible to be used for burying bodies.”

Vincent got up from his seat, “Now that my name is clear, it seemed like I am not needed here. I will take a look at the bodies in the laboratory.”

Clayton nodded, and Vincent stepped out of the room with Clarks.

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Wanting to look at the skeletons found recently, he made his way to the other building where the laboratory was located. He asked the woman, “Did someone tip to dig the ground to find the skeletons?”

“One of the ground guards found a finger bone sticking out from the surface. The rain that poured must have continuously eroded the surface of the soil,” Clarks informed as she walked one step away from the pureblooded vampire.

“Looks like the people who wanted to bury the bodies were in a hurry to get rid of the person, hm,” Vincent hummed, their shoes clicking against the ground as they made their way through the corridor.

Once they reached where the skeletons lay along with their decomposed belongings, Vincent stepped forward and looked at them. Both of them appeared to have quality leather shoes, but there was something peculiar about one of them, and he came to stand in front of the table where the skeleton lay.

He wondered what was the reason, that this person was buried.

Vincent then took a step closer to observe the tattered fabric on the skeleton, still intact even after years, while the other skeleton had a leather coat with holes. He turned the body and noticed the tear of the tattered dress on the back, which had a blood stain. This woman’s skeleton… could it be that this person was Eve’s mother and the one they buried before was someone else?

Eve and he had believed that those were the only bodies in the ground of Darthmore and had picked the skeleton that matched with the closest answer. He frowned,

“Was it this skeleton’s finger that was sticking out?”

Clarks, who stood on the other side, turned to look at Vincent and replied, “Yes, she was the one. She was probably buried alive.”

Minutes passed, when Vincent noticed a grey patch on the dress. He moved the thin layers before looking at the inner material that reminded him of the patchwork he had seen many years ago. The way the thread was sewed through stood out even in the past.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed and his suspicion turned stronger. He tore the cloth along with the patch, leaving the woman in the room speechless.

“Um, Mr. Moriarty, do you need the dress?” Clarks asked him in doubt.

Vincent didn’t stand around and quickly disappeared from there.

Stepping out of the building and going far away from people’s sight, where the sky had started to change colour, ready to welcome the night, Vincent’s wings appeared from his back before he flew away from Darthmore.

Vincent clutched the tattered fabric, while his wings flapped in the sky. By the time he reached the almost abandoned town, the sky had started to turn darker, and he landed back on the ground. He stared at the building with broken doors and windows. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened.

He finally stepped inside Eve’s former house, and his eyes looked around before they fell on the cupboards.

Walking towards them, he opened one of the cupboards and looked through the scarce things covered in dust and cobwebs. He then opened the next cupboard, his hands moving across the old clothes until his hand pulled out a small-sized coat with patchwork and similar threadwork.

Vincent remembered the little girl who had worn it and whispered, “It was you…”