Uh…six months is a very long time for another update isn't it? I can't begin to say how terribly sorry I am for being careless and inconsiderate to you all and Cain and Riff! I really hope this chapter lives up to the expectations of those who have been more then patient with me. I'd like to thank everyone whose reviewed and encouraged to keep writing! I love you all.
Disclaimer: I don't own Godchild/Count Cain. All rights are reserved to the lovingly Kaori Yuki.
Chapter IV: Succor
Something ran across Cain's foot, causing the earl to jump in the air and yell out from fright much to a certain medium's amusement. Cain glared angrily at Crehador and snarled acidly, "And what is it you that find so funny Crehador?" The addressed only smiled dryly and replied casually, "I find it ironic that a rat can scare you and yet you aren't in the least bit afraid of your poisons."
Cain glowered at the medium for a few seconds before looking away and continuing down the narrow passage way leading them further into the underground sewage system of London. God, how awful the stench was down there! Cain stared into the dark putrid water for some time before answering him in a quiet yet stiff voice.
"There's nothing ironic about it, Crehador. It was only because of my nerves that caused me to react the way I just did." Crehador was going to response when Cain abruptly spotted something in the difficult to see into water and pointed to it and shouted, "Look, there's something floating in the water!" Cain searched in the dim light produced by the portable flashlight Crehador was holding, for a long stick or rod he could use to retrieve the object.
Crehador helped Cain look and found a long metal tube that had once been apart of the sewer, now it was only just a piece of junk. Cain picked it up into his hands, and winced when his palms were slick with the filthy water. He breathed through his mouth and dabbed at the object. He jabbed at it, but the thing kept bobbing away from him. He sighed in frustration and after a few minutes of fruitlessness, he managed to bring what ever it was to shore.
Cain tossed the tube behind him and retrieved the thing that had caused him so much effort to recover. When he had the thing in his hands, he wished he hadn't touched it. He gasped and dropped it as if it had burnt his hands. Crehador's eyes widened and the two exchanged bewildered expressions.
"This is Delilah's doing, we can be sure of that. This proves we are getting closer to their current hideout." Crehador said for the sake of interrupting the tension that had covered them. The only sensible thing Cain could do was simply gawk forlornly and think nothing but the worst. As if reading his mind, Crehador answered reassuringly, "It isn't Riff, Cain. Alexis wouldn't be foolish enough to maim him like this."
Cain said nothing; he tore his eyes away from the rotting arm and stalked away with his companion following suit. Crehador was right, of course he was. Alexis wouldn't be stupid enough to mar Riff like that; it would ruin his plans, what ever they were. But that still didn't settle Cain's anxiety. And the only way to rest his anxieties was to find Riff and kill his father for taking him away. But would Cain like what he'd see when he got there? It never crossed his mind as he trotted down those deserted tunnels with Crehador besides him that he wouldn't be met with the same Riff he loved and cared about; that it was possible that that man was nonexistent and was replaced with someone vile and coldhearted. Why should he have entertained the thought when all he could think about was getting him back no matter what conditions of character he was in? What mattered to him as he ran was having Riff back, and that was all.
Mary Weather couldn't concentrate on the picture she was drawing. On closer inspection the only thing she had managed for the last hour to create were a bunch of squiggles and messy lines that represented nothing. She wasn't much in the mood to draw when her mind was in turmoil. Cain had left nearly three hours ago and hadn't returned. She was worried sick that something terrible had happened to him in his search for Riff.
She couldn't take it anymore; she stood up and marched towards the drawing-room door. Her hand reached out to yank it open when the door on its own accord was jarred open by Oscar. He had a large grin plastered on his face and was staring down at her. Mary Weather placed her small hands on her hips and said tensely, "Oscar, please remove yourself from my way."
He shook his head and answered now frowning, "I'm sorry my dear Mary Weather, but Cain will kill me if I let you go after him." Mary Weather shot him a withering look and grounded out, "It won't be Cain who kills you Oscar if you don't move this instant—what are you doing! Put me down; put me down you…you. Oscar!"
Oscar ignored her and carried her up the stairs, the servants looking at the astonishingly spectacular event as their young missus was carried away to her room by the disowned baron. Somehow Oscar opened the door with his free hand while his other was firmly holding a yelling and kicking Mary Weather who was close to biting his ear off if he didn't chose to let her down.
He walked across her room and placed her unceremoniously on her large bed and turned on his heels and said when he got to the door, "I know you want to help Cain, Mary Weather, as do I, but we'll only get in his way. We both know he wants to save Riff on his own without anyone's help. I don't mind at all if you call me names and hit me, I just don't want to see you hurt," he said seriously. His countenance softened as he added, "I'll be outside in case you try to escape. And don't bother trying to sneak out through the windows. I've fastened them shut. Good night."
A pillow flew through the air as the door closed and missed its target by seconds. Mary Weather cried in aggravation at Oscar's interference of her plans. Tears that weren't easily moved ran down her heated cheeks as she lay in her bed staring longingly out the window. Somewhere out there in the city Cain was running around looking for Riff whilst she remained behind.
Oscar's words rang clear in her ear, mocking her as she lay there in silence. As much as she detested it, she knew he was right and she was wrong. It was clear to her she would be a burden in Cain's search and would only slow him down. She didn't want that; she wanted to help her brother, but how?
Surely there was something she and Oscar could do, but what? Her abandoned tarot cards on the nightstand caught her attention and quickly sat up in bed. She could prove to be helpful by at least reading her cards. In seconds she lit a candle and began to read them. As she turned them face up, a shocking chill electrified her. For the first time since she had being reading cards, she hesitated. Mary Weather gnawed the interior of her cheek, and taking a deep breath she turned it over and struggled for breath.
Her pulse quickened as she made sure she was seeing things correctly.
'No, there has to be a mistake! I must be reading it wrong…no, I've never read my cards wrong before. Cain, please be careful!' Mary Weather held the ill fated card in her hands and wished she had dealt another card besides the one in her hands. Now she regretted having thought reading her cards would benefit her brother and their situation. If it had done anything, it had only made things worst.
Riff did not feel well at all; he felt as if he were gradually dying. His entire internal structure felt like fire was ablaze and destroying him from the inside out; his generally cold skin was searing and it was unbearable for him to even stand himself. Everything he had the misfortune of straining to see was blurred and unfocused and the longer he tortured himself to make out the fuzzy shapes, a sharp pain crossed his miserable head.
His teeth were painfully clenched and a fresh trickle of blood ran down passed his lips. The pain…the pain was the only thing he could think about in his last hours of doom. It left no room to ponder about anything else. It was the most horrible and terrifying thing Riff had ever suffered in his life and if he had had the ability to think about anything else, he would say it would be the last thing he felt.
A sharp prick of a needle caused him to gasp in alarm. What more crap could they possibly have injected into him this time? In seconds the pain that had dominated him, diminished as if it had never existed and left him in a sleepy state. His eyelids drooped but he would have none of it. He would fight the exhaustion that was washing over him and stay awake and confront them all.
It took a great effort to keep his eyes open and alert, yet he managed to conquer the obstacle of weariness and was awake. When he had won his diminutive fray with himself, Riff found himself gawking bewilderedly at a certain silver haired doctor and peculiarly strange assistant of his who was much the eldest of the three of them. Cassian glared back at him and muttered bitterly, "It's not polite to stare."
"Cassian." Jezebel said simply. Cassian kept his mouth shut and watched as the doctor quietly observed Riff this way and that way as if looking for something that only he knew what to look for in the latter's countenance. Riff stiffened and yearned to have his hands unbound so he could punch him across the face. Indeed, it was interesting to see what ten hours of suffering and pain could do to one's custom abundance of patience and cordialness as was the case with Riff.
He was desperate and his desperation was clearly chiseled on his handsome face. At this point he was capable of anything and both Jezebel and Cassian knew it. Jezebel was indifferent to this fact whilst Cassian kept one of his charmingly sharp throwing knives in his hand in case Riff tried anything to harm Jezebel.
"Why haven't you already settled on simply killing me liking any reasonable human being would do?" Riff hissed acerbically.
As part of his answer, a twisted smirk pulled the corners of Jezebel's mouth and replied somberly, "When did you ever find proof Riffael, you were dealing with human beings?"
He did not stop there; he had a few more things to say before he left Riff once and for all to the clutches of an inescapable darkness that not even his vehement resolution could hope to overcome and survive. This was a final interview between them and a silent and hollow good-bye from the doctor's part only.
"I won't deny my astonishment to find you still obstinately alive, Riff," Jezebel commented reservedly. "But even the most persistent heart must crumble sooner or later, and sadly you're no exception to that law."
Riff frowned, frankly bemused and inquired calmly, "I know you are alluding to my death, doctor, but why is not Lord Alexis here to witness my demise if that is what he is aiming for, I think?" Ah, here Riff made a clever inquire indeed; and Jezebel made an even clever comeback.
"He is waiting for me to return to him with the news that you're dead and no longer an issue for his schemes in which you would get in his way to finally kill Cain." Jezebel said with absolutely no emotions which made Riff's own stoic and aloof manner appear amateur to Jezebel's adept dispassion regarding such grave matters as the ones currently being discussed.
How ever he managed to not snap, Riff seduced his anger and keep it under a critical check to prevent any miss happenings. The thought of death did not scare him at all; why should it if he had faced death's temptations and near-successes so many times in the course of his life to begin to feel intimated by it? No, what he did admit fearing was leaving the world of the living to leave his master in the wicked and malevolent hands of his father. Now that he could not permit. It's true that Death may be unpredictable, but when it is one's time to depart for ever, Lady Death has a thing for being punctual.
Riff felt his time was at an end, but it would not end peacefully as they all anticipated. He wanted to remove the burden which his beloved master had suffered from since he had been born; and it was that burden which he would endeavor to annihilate with the last drop of the red concoction that coursed through his veins. Everything he thought and felt was written as clear as day of his face.
Jezebel heaved a sigh and said, "Cassian, your knife. Now." It was an order Cassian had known would be requested of him, but even still it did not stop him from being surprised. He did as told and handed the knife over into the dexterous hands of the doctor who in turn cut the ropes binding Riff. In seconds Riff was free and was on his feet despite his weary state.
The recovery of flexing his body was both a great pleasure and relief that did not last long. Jezebel's amethyst eyes observed Riff meticulously and remarked off-handedly, "The next time Cain lays eyes on you Riff you'll be dead and be the source of his grief."
"Why are you helping me?" Riff asked, ignoring the doctor's cold remark that he reluctantly distinguished to be plausible. Jezebel locked eyes with those saddening and gradually dying blue eyes that kept some of their keenness, and candidly rejoinder, "Why not help the dying man in his last minutes of life?"
In those few words he confirmed Riff's death to be undeniable. Riff's mouth went dry and his head was dizzy. "How long do I have?" was all Riff muttered quietly.
"No more then an hour so you'd best be going before your time is up," Jezebel said neutrally. "You can no doubt already feel the poison decaying you, can't you?"
Riff nodded his head and replied, "Yes, I can." That was all that was said between them as Jezebel allowed Riff to leave. When the door closed, Cassian chose to speak.
"Doctor, how could you let him walk out of here like that? The Card-master is going to be angry with you!" Cassian shouted. Jezebel walked passed him and as he did, he said, "I lied; he'll be dead in fifteen minutes. The poison I injected him with works quickly and the more he moves, the quicker it travels through his body. The signature of the poison that I chose for him taints the blood and freezes the heart and produces a painless yet effective death excluding all the bloody messy."
Cassian was left standing alone in the empty room looking after Jezebel with only his thoughts to provide him with a vague understanding of what the doctor had done. 'Why would the doctor show that inept butler mercy? I know I shouldn't ask, but I'm tempted to. It's just strange he would take that Riff fellow into consideration. Doctor I hope you know what you're doing.'
Fifteens minutes had been the time Jezebel declared to Cassian that would bring about Riff's end and he had been right. As the butler of the Hargreaves family made his escape and trotted down the ancient corridors, searching for the whereabouts of his former employer and current executor, Riff never made it to his desired destination. He never reached the end of the corridor where that detesting vile man sat waiting for the news of his death to reach him. Never again did he see his master's handsome face again as he had hoped. He died with the faint whisper of Cain's name on his lips.
Jezebel heard his last breath and his half-brother's name before stepping around the corner and kneeling besides him. Soft graceful footsteps, undoubtedly those of a ghostly woman, were approaching. He didn't need to lift his eyes to know who it was that was lingering over his back and the dead body.
"So he's finally dead; I thought he'd never die. He was quite stubborn to depart from this world, but the Master will be pleased to be informed that we can proceed with his next plan." It was Justice. Jezebel eyed her from under his lashes, seeing what her reaction was to Riff's death. She displayed nothing regarding his death. She looked at Jezebel with what he assumed were her cold eyes, observing the small inkling of remorse hidden in his expression and said, "Don't tell me you miss this man, Jezebel? He was dead to begin with."
He made no indications of replying; instead he stood, brining Riff's limp body with him. As if by a mute communication betwixt them, Cassian appeared and assisted in carrying the body to where Alexis was. The Card master was no doubt wondering what was taking so long, and it would be rude to keep him waiting another second longer. Justice, the oracle that concealed her eyes (if she had any) behind a black piece of cloth, followed them in silence.
Alexis had been indeed waiting for them, and when Jezebel and Cassian dragged Riff's body in to the spacious room, a twisted and hideous smile spread over his face. He pulled his pipe out of his mouth, tentatively studying Riff's dreamless countenance and took a puff from his pipe before saying clearly, "Justice, you may begin."
A/N: Should I ask if you all liked it? I'm not pleased with this chapter. I think it's crappy. Everyone's way too out-of-character and the plot hasn't developed much. I'll perfectly understand if anyone wants to flame me. I deserve it. If you read this far, thanks!