A maid began to run up the stairs, but Xander tore the cleaver from the cook and threw it at her, the blade lodging itself in thetop of her back and causing her to fall down. He stepped over her twitching body as he made his way up the stairs, throwing another servant over the bannister as they foolishly tried to fight him off. He heard them fall with a satisfying crack to their skull.
There were no staff left. He had killed them all.
As he rounded the top of the staircase, too distracted in his triumph, a knife flashed before him. He moved his head just in time to avoid losing his eye, the blade slashing across the left side of his face.
He pressed a hand to the wound and felt the deep gash that stretched from the top of his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth. A low laugh escaped his lips as he stared at the blood on his fingers. It was odd to see his own blood on his hands, refreshing almost.
“I must admit, old man, it has been a while since anyone made me bleed.” He turned to face Sebastian Clarke standing on the landing with a knife raised above his head, ready to strike again. “How about you put that down, Lord Clarke? Or perhaps you would do me the favour of slitting your own throat?”
“I knew what you were,” he spat out, as he drove his knife down again. Xander gracefully stepped to the side, leaving Sebastian standing between him and the staircase. “I have known all along and I chose to trust you. I chose to trust you with my daughter!”
“Now, now, my Lord. There is no need to be so upset. You are not the only one to make the mistake of trusting me.”
Xander smirked at Sebastian and raised his hand, two fingers beckoning him forward. Sebastian lunged again, his knife swiping sideways to slash Xander’s stomach, but he was too slow. Everyone was too slow against him.
With little effort, Xander grabbed the knife from Sebastian’s grip and dangled it in front of his face, taunting him to take it from him, only to throw it to the side when he tried. The bladeslammed into the wall before clattering to the floor. Xander laughed and shrugged his shoulders with a sigh, growing bored of how quickly he had disarmed him, how easy it had been to dispose of the entire household.
Sebastian looked to Adriana’s door and opened his mouth, likely to tell her to run, to hide, to do anything to protect herself. Whatever his warning was, Xander didn’t care; it made little difference. Before he could get a single word out, Xander’s boot landed painfully against his chest, and Lord Sebastian Clarke was sent flying down the staircase.
He landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, his left wrist and both ankles bent at an unnatural angle. The blood running down his face made Xander’s mouth water, but Sebastian would not be the one to feed him tonight. In fact, he felt very little bloodlust at all. Just the desire to kill.
Xander paraded down the stairs, clapping and whistling. “Look at you, still breathing! I am impressed, you just took one hell of a fall, Lord Clarke.”
Sebastian tried to drag his body towards the doorway—his final attempt to get away. It was pitiful, how easily a mortal body could be broken, but how strong the mind could be… how desperate one would cling to hope. But there was no hope to be found, not anymore.
Xander grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him outside. Sebastian barely put up a fight now, and the whimpers escaping him told Xander there was little fun left to be had. He turned round to face the house and pulled Sebastian’s head up by his hair to look up to Adriana’s window. The moment the old man caught sight of his daughter, screaming and banging on the window as she begged Xander to let her father go, Xander felt Sebastian’s emotions shift. He was still terrified, that much was clear, but a feeling of contentment had washed over him, as if seeing Adriana’s face one last time would make it all worth it.
As Sebastian smiled at her, a silent attempt to lie to her and tell her everything would be okay, Xander dragged him into the shallows of the lake.
“Look at her,” Xander whispered into his ear. “Look at your daughter. I want you to know that she is next.”
Xander’s eyes never left Adriana’s, his smile never left his face, as he drowned her father.
He held his head underwater for a few seconds before lifting him back up, only to force him under again. He tortured him, over and over, dragging out every second of pain, until he became tired of the man’s spluttering. Standing up straight and placing his foot on top of Sebastian’s head, Xander held him down.
By the time Sebastian had stopped struggling, when the bubbles stopped forming in the water, Adriana’s cries and pleads had ceased. She just stood there, her hand flat against the glass pane, staring at her father’s floating body.
Xander watched her stumble away from the window and out of view. He washed his face and hands in the water, removing all traces of his victims’ blood from his skin, but the deep cut across his cheek continued to bleed. Sebastian had cut him deep enough to leave a scar.
Purposefully, he kept his steps slow and heavy as he walked back into the house and made his way up the staircase, running his talons against the walls so she knew he was coming. He passed by Striga’s room, noticing her frail, lifeless body on the floor by her bed, and could not help the chuckle that escaped him at the sight.
Finally, he made it to Adriana’s chambers and kicked her door open. She was sitting on her bed in her wedding dress, the corset haphazardly laced, as she fiddled with the engagement ring on her left hand. Adriana didn’t look up, didn’t make any move toacknowledge his presence as he stepped into her dark room and slammed the door behind him.
“I am touched you got all dressed up for me,” Xander laughed. “Was this your final attempt to save yourself? To pull me back from the edge?”
Adriana took a shaky breath, her attention still fixed on her ring. “There is no edge to pull you back from. You have already fallen.”
As Xander approached, he saw her cheeks were stained with dried tears, but her face was void of any expression at all. It was like she was dead already, and he hated that. He wanted to see the life in her eyes; he wanted to feel the fear and the hatred before he took it all away.
“The girl born on the March Equinox,” he said, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm as he sauntered towards her. “The lightbringer, killed on the Winter Solstice, on the longest night of the year. Poetic, is it not?”
Adriana gave no reply, she just kept staring at the ring on her hand. Gently, Xander took her chin and angled her face to look up at his. He watched in delight as she took in his appearance—the trousers soaked through from the lake, the black shirt that hung open, the blood dripping from the cut across his cheek and trickling down to his chest. As she continued to look at him, he could recognise the twinkle in her eye, the same she would have whenever she called him beautiful.
But, of course, even a bringer of death could appear as a beautiful angel.
“You did not run?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“I told you I would be waiting for you,” she quietly replied, her vacant eyes finally meeting his dark stare. “Besides, what would be the point? You would catch me anyway.”
