Fangs of a Butterfly

CHAPTER 16

Cecile and I dressed up in crinolines and stockings that day, had our hair made up by Adalyn and Bernadette, and then presented ourselves to the men. 

"A bit excessive, if I do say myself." Yves looked up and down at us.

"Better than nothing but a silk nightgown," Dr.Gregoire said.

We threw on cloaks they gave us and then bid Selma and Rowena, who kept watch, goodbye. Agnes had been in a sour mood all of yesterday and wouldn't see us off, and Primrose was probably moping over her unrequited love, and Sabine, the subject of that love, was probably moping over me.

Now that I think about it, it was quiet horrible growing up with only four people your age in your life—you were either bound to hate them, or love them.

Once outside I marveled at the stones clicking under my heels and the wind that blew at my fallen locks.

"This is the outside world. This is freedom."

I reached out to touch a bush, like stems mounted in the ground and intertwining, devoid of leaves because it was winter. I leaned down to touch the dirt and broke off a twig to dig through the dirt.

"Are you a dog?" Uriel asked.

"Why? I'm only looking for bugs."

"It's winter, they've long died," Dr.Gregoire said.

We went on the path and I stopped every so minutes to their annoyance, but I was laughing.

"What a strange place, the outside. So this is Jardin. This is our clan's land. This is our home, Cecile!" I exclaimed, but she only gave a small wry smile.

We began to set off to town, and there people looked at us, but didn't fear us, only smiled and said 'Merry Christmas,' which we said back. I suspect it was because of my beauty, not to boast.

We slowly reached roads and streets, almost as modern as Uriel's drawings, but there was still a small village feel about it. The houses we passed were of stone and desolate, but slowly reach our castle. Further on, there were stores. One that seemed like a bakery, another like a pub. Then there was town. It was like a small gathering of many bakeries and pubs, but Yves told us it was different.

I rushed out into a store but someone pulled me back. I turned back with a huff.

"Do the townspeople know how you look?" Uriel asked, grip tight.

"Anyone who knows how we look are most likely dead," I said.

"Margery," Cecile cried.

"Anyways, they've seen Agnes and her crones, but not us. Adalyn and her generation are unknown. They only think there's seven of us."

"I still don't understand how your clan bears children without parents," Karl said.

"I can teach you, if you're willing to become one of them. And by one of them, I mean the dead fathers."

"No, thank you," he said quickly.

We trekked through the thin sheet of snow, my slippers growing wet and the skin of my feet feeling a bit prickly. We went to a clothing store and looked through the windows. There were mannequins and frilly dresses.

"How do you like these, Miss Margery?" Yves asked with a smirk. I had never actually walked so far in heavy clothing, and it was tiring. That's why I've always been envious of men and their trousers.

"I despise it. It's worse than what Agnes gets us."

"You despise everything," Uriel groaned.

We walked some more, but I realized they had on stony faces and I was the only one rushing from place to place.