Walter de Ville's Advocate

Chapter Eight

Closing the front door to my rooms behind me, I leaned against it with my eyes closed, relishing in the power pumping through my veins. Satiated with my thirst for blood, I had reverted to my human façade and alerted Mr. Field. He checked that the old servants' pathways were clear, though it was a bygone feature and never occupied by anyone.

We didn't need to pretend like the maids and other household staff weren't living and working within the manor with secret staircases.

My head butler would take care of the maids, moving the injured one to my private study and the other chained in the dungeon. He had already disposed of the maid that Lucy had devoured just last night, and while it wasn't a task that many of my familiars would prefer, he gladly took it on.

My thoughts shifted to Evie, wondering if she was finished with the Alexander family reunion.

"I'll just get cleaned up . . .," I began, spinning on my heel as I surveyed the room.

My wardrobes, settee, coffin, and small desk, but no Emmaline in sight.

I smiled with a short laugh, walking to my en suite bathroom to draw a bath. After a feast such as that, I did enjoy a warm bath to collect my thoughts. With idle imaginations of Evie joining me, I instead opted for a shower so that I could hurry up and locate her.

Lucy would have to wait just a while longer; she would understand.

Turning the brass knobs, warm water poured from the showerhead; steam billowing around me as I pushed my hair to the side. I seemed to have blood in every crevice, and although I was already ardent in my hygiene and tidiness, a worry crept in.

She'll see what you've done. Evie will know that you've spilled blood.

I leaned both hands on the wall in front of me, the hot water a torrent down my body.

"Go away," I finally said.

"Make me," she said.

Another quick rinse and then I turned off the water. I reached out past the shower door for my towel. With it tied around my waist, I step out onto the teak mat.

Emmaline sat on the long counter, but it wasn't like she kicked her legs or twirled her hair around her finger. No, she sat there with an expression like an undertaker.

And she wish she were mine, too.

"How is it that you are in my head," I asked

When she didn't answer, I shook my head and retreated to the main room for fresh attire; another crisp, white shirt, the top button left undone, black slacks, and donning my ring and wristwatch.

"Evie is not tainted like the rest of your followers. She wasn't brought up with broken morals, thinking that her life was more important than other's deaths."

"You speak of us so plainly, as if I don't deserve to live, too."

Emmaline's form zoomed up to me, her eyes wild as her hair flowed around her. "You do not deserve to live. None of us do! And neither does Evelyn."

I chuckled as I turned away from her – unaffected – grabbing some pomade from my dresser. "Ah, so which is it? The right to live, or no right to live? Seems your brain is muddled even in death."

There were about three styles that I had perfected over the years without the assistance of another – since I bore no reflection – and I worked the product through my hair to give it my more boyish style. I would have to restyle it for tonight's formal event, but that didn't matter.

When I didn't hear Emmaline continue lecturing me, I turned to see her staring out of the window. Walking towards her to see what she was looking at, I smiled as I saw Evie out in the gardens with a drawing pad.