The Bride of Lord Motte - Version 2 (Rewrite)

Chapter 34

She shrieks. With pure fury, she screams like a rabid animal. I nearly anticipate her head to bang against the steering wheel.

"Fine, fine! Let me out of here!" She shoves against the door. Reluctantly, I let her. The wheels are only relaxed back on the muddy ground once her entire body has exited with the door shut behind her.

She holds up her hands as she faces me. "You would really make me break the rules? Our rules?"

I blink back at her.

She waits, daring me to question her further or show any sort of hesitancy.

I don't.

"I need to know. And I need to save Jasmine." If there is anything decent left for me in this world, in my soul, I have to do at least that.

"Some souls are not worth re-fabricating. Is that not a satisfactory answer?" She glowered at me.

I cross my arms, observing both men watching behind her. They nearly appear proud.

"Should we have a private word then?" She suggests. "The discourse we have to have has no place for an audience. Especially them."

Her need for a secluded conversation does allure me. I don't suspect her of putting me in any further danger...her lack of physical defense when we took her car hostage is proof of that. It would seem that she is rather helpless without whatever witchery preparation she would normally need.

She didn't anticipate this. Therefore, she couldn't have prepared for this.

I'm overjoyed, frankly, that I could surprise her. That after this many reruns of my life, I still have it in me to be defiant; fly off script, if you will.

"I'll allow it." I nod. our two observers before we walk to the mansion. An interior I never thought I would re-enter again - not since I walked out on that balcony.

How wrong we all are...were...perhaps, still are.

The place feels unusually cold. A horrible draft blows through the doorway that I swear didn't before. The window sill even has a layer of dust coating it. I smell the mustiness of it immediately. I inspect it, briefly, before she answers my unspoken question.

"The house is falling apart. Now that its role is over, there is no stopping its rot and deterioration. You'll have to maintain it now...if you wish to keep it." Her swift gaze around the room does not hide her distaste. "Rather outdated anyway, isn't it?"

"I find it rather charming. Gothic...memorable. It was mine many times, after all...though you may be right. It may be time for an upgrade..." I face her, my lips curved. "In more than one avenue of my life."

In friends, perhaps?

This does not amuse her. In fact, she turns away like a child.

I roll my eyes. Of course. "I suppose our organs are all about to fail as well, then? Are all of our roles now fulfilled in your little fairytale?"

"No," she whispered. Her tone changed so quickly, I barely could register it.

Suddenly, it felt again as if she were the handmaiden about to brush my hair or draw my bath and I was the domineering white lady of the house. Does this mansion remind her all too well of that?

That could just be an act.

"Alright, take your seat," I said, carrying on towards the red dining room without any more hitches. I take my own at the head of the table, taking command in what is typically Vince's place.

It feels...good. Very good.

I am everything she thinks I am, aren't I?

She sits on my side, maintaining eye contact, as weak as it is. "There were rules we both agreed to-"