"The trilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars."

"Burnt Norton", T. S. Eliot

By the time they meet again, he's shaken the strange affliction.

Or he thinks he has, until he sees her. He'd planned to kill her as soon as he saw her, but now that she's in front of him, he's strangely reluctant to do it. She is so interesting, after all. It would be a shame to kill her quickly. Yes, he decides. Susan Sto Helit's death ought to be a careful, intimate affair so that he can savor all those little looks, the panting breath, the pounding heart. It can be something to look forward to after he's finished with this Hogfather business.

And while he's at it, he can kill Death. As he readies for the strike, he wonders what will happen when he kills Susan, if there is no Death. Maybe he'll be able to kill her and still keep her. Isn't that a lovely thought?

The poker puts an abrupt end to his plans. He's surprised by how disappointed he is that he won't be able to keep Susan after all.

It's much easier to hate him the second time. She wishes she weren't surprised by that. She also wishes the practical little observer in the back of her mind would shut up and stop observing for once, because it's busy pointing out that only about three quarters of her rage is for the way he's threatening Grandfather and the children. The other quarter is for the cold glint in his eyes when he looks at her that says he'll kill her without a second thought and never regret it.

But underneath the rage, her heart is in her throat, and this time it truly is all fear, because he is somehow madder now than he was. Before he was only mad. Now he is wrong. He has gone beyond madness, somehow, and whatever lives beyond that place should not be here in this cozy little room. There's nothing exciting about this, and she spares a moment to be relieved because that means what happened before was just some kind of passing fit, a few misfires in the brain, and she's not any further from normal than she ever was.

She doesn't regret killing him at all. That's what she tells herself afterwards, and she tries to forget how young and surprised he looked in that moment.

"What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden."

"Burnt Norton"

AN: And here ends The Trilling Wire In The Blood, largely because I couldn't face writing a longer story in the present tense. However, if you've enjoyed this story you should keep an eye out for its past tense offspring, The End Precedes the Beginning, which I should start posting pretty soon.