Page 75 of Fragile Wicked Things
Rochester was on top of Blanche in moments, his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing, holding her down on the sofa. I jumped off, but Franklin was there by my side and grabbed me. No one stepped in to stop Rochester, and I held my breath, anticipating a devastating outcome either way. Then Blanche couldn't contain her laughter any longer.
"Have you learned little? Choking a Vampyre does nothing." She spit out the words through more laughter, ridiculing him in front of the others. Rochester lifted his hand, poised to strike her with his claws when she stopped giggling. "What do you think will happen to your Jane?"
Franklin sank his fingers into my arms, breaking skin.
"Edward," I pleaded.
Rochester hesitated and lifted himself off Blanche, his eyes cast down in defeat. Franklin threw me towards Rochester, who caught me and pushed me behind him. His eyes rose to look at Blanche.
"The truth is, Blanche, I could love anyone more than I can ever love you."
The smile that had been on Blanche's face disappeared and she stared hard at Rochester, neither of them making a move or uttering another word. Then the young blond Rochester had been feeding from let out a cry, then a whimper and her hand shot up to her throat that had been slashed open by Blanche. Her mouth opened and closed and she made little hollow sounds gasping for air. The young woman's wide eyes followed Blanche as she dipped her finger into the wound and licked the blood, swirling her finger deep into her mouth. The Vampyre twins stirred, came forward, then pulled back. I saw how they stared at the young woman's throat, watched as the desire quickly overtook them and they pounced on her, ripping her apart, sucking the life from her to take pleasure in the last moments of her life. My breath quickened.
Rochester could not save me from the same fate.
Franklin pushed Rochester to the floor which left me in the middle of the room, exposed and vulnerable. Struggling beneath him, Rochester flipped Franklin over, pinning him down, but Blanche's men jumped him, and hauled him off Franklin. They held Rochester down and he screamed like an animal, his eyes blackened. The darkness had returned.
Blanche stepped closer to me, circled around, at times stroking my arm. "See how he loves you, Jane? Can you understand why I can't let this go on? The question is, do you love him back? I'm sure Edward would want to know too. It would be more torturous to know he destroyed yet another woman who loved him."
"Shut your mouth," Rochester shouted to her.
"Doesn't she know, Edward?"
Unsure what Blanche alluded to, I looked to Rochester.
"Oh, I can tell she doesn't know. I don't blame you for not telling her. After all, why would you want her to see the monster that you are? Oh, but please let me tell her. Our dear Edward was married with a family once."
"I'm aware," I said.
"Did he tell you what happened to them? How he turned towards the darkness..."
"Shut up!" Rochester struggled against the Vampyres, but there were too many. "I'll destroy you."
"Our poor Edward had to chase down his wife as she lured him towards the animal shed, away from the home they used to share. When he got there, he could make out the sound of her heart, the fast pace of it as it pounded against her chest. Fear. The smell of her fear drove him to such ecstasy that when he ripped into her neck and heart, I don't think he had ever reached such a point of exhilaration with her beforehand."
Tears welled up in my eyes.
"Shall I continue? Or do you need some time to digest?" Blanche giggled at her joke.
"Stop." It was no longer a shout but the quiet voice of a broken man. I looked at Rochester, his face turned away, staring into the hearth's fire. The others let go of him. Blanche grabbed my chin to force me to look at her.
"My Edward was not satisfied and he turned now to the home he once shared with his family. There was something better, sweeter, purer. When he entered, he found it empty, but he knew she was there, hiding. He crept up to where she hid under the bed and in his sweetest voice, he said..."
"It's Daddy."
My head snapped to Rochester when he spoke.
"Come out. You're safe. Daddy won't let any harm..." His voice broke, and tears sprang from his eyes.
"She was a child," Blanche continued. "The blood of the innocent is the most desirable. And when he looked down at what he had done, when he held his daughter's lifeless body in his arms, he was horrified. He begged for forgiveness. He begged for death. Neither came. He buried them, one atop the other, in what had been his burial spot and tied a rope around two pieces of sticks, fashioning them into a cross, and although they burned into his skin, he continued to work away. God abandons you when you're dead yet still walk the Earth. Then Edward took holy water his wife kept in a bottle, a gift from their reverend, and consecrated the ground so they would not return as he did. The fool. He had given them his blood. He thought he was saving their souls, but he trapped them there, bound by the holy ground surrounding them. His little girl still calls out to her daddy."
Rochester hung his head low; beyond shame, beyond remorse. Rochester could not save me now.
Twenty-Four
Under lock and key, they held Rochester with me in my room, but the imprisonment was not necessary—all hope was gone. Rochester sat on the floor, knees up, head buried forward into his hands, hidden from everything including me. It was reminiscent of the night I first came upon him in Catherine's tomb; he was a sight to see, a man broken, resigned to defeat. For many hours, he sat there in silence, motionless, a statue much like the beast in the center of the Thornfield maze. I could have searched for him, rounded the corners, and left breadcrumbs in a trail, but still, I would not have been able to find Rochester. At his very core, he was dead.
"Mr. Rochester, please help..."
