Trilby's Notes (Trilby x Reader) 2

Cold Blood

Your Pov:

Trilby's words faded into nothingness as my vision flashed white again. My surroundings changed and became darker. I was lying in a bed, wearing a long nightgown. Sweat coated my forehead. There was a vanity with a mirror in front of the bed. In the reflection I saw...

Me...

I mean, she looked like me, but her hair was pulled up into bun and as a sharp pain wracked my body, I realized that she was pregnant. Then it struck me all at once.

I was looking through Rhea Frehorn's eyes.

A voice emanated from what I assumed was downstairs, "So, what trifle have you been wasting your father's money on now, Jack? It looks like a virginal." The man I assumed to be Jack Frehorn, spoke, "A harpsichord, actually, in the Flemish style." The other man spoke up, "Well, I suppose I should be grateful that something is distracting you from the occult for once." Frehorn scoffed.

"I fear you may be speaking too soon, my friend." The other man sighed, "Oh, god. I should have known. You and your silly obsession. So what devilry inhabits this magnificent instrument?" Frehorn huffed, "The instrument as a whole is for the most part, untainted by the Ethereal Realm. But it's keys are what spark my interest. Unusually, they have been carved from centuries old English oak." The other man paused.

"And that's the interesting part?" Frehorn hummed, "I will not be disheartened by that sharp tongue of yours. The wood has gone through many incarnations before being incorporated into this device. Items of furniture, building material...In fact, just over two hundred years ago, it was part of a wall. A wall of a certain inn on a well-traveled road in Wales."

The other man answered, "The Unicorn?" Frehorn chuckled, "I'm so pleased you remember." The other man let out an irritated sigh, "I could hardly forget it, the way you have been obsessing quite heartily over it as of late. Your correspondents persist in filling your head with rubbish about ghosts and demons..."

Frehorn gloated, "I count myself very lucky to have tracked down even a small piece of that hostelry. I know I've already told you some of the wonderful stories attached to it...and this instrument had had its fair share of mysterious happenings." The other man tsk'd, "The usual batch of strange noises, sudden madness and inexplicable deaths? See sense, my friend! This curiosity of yours for all things ungodly has no doubt already befouled your immortal soul!"

Frehorn sighed, "You are a fine fellow, Wilbur, but you have not a drop of romance in your body. Now, stop browbeating me for my inquiring  mind and let us take dinner."

The voices went silent and another wave of pain washed over me. Then, everything faded to black. A while later, I faded back into consciousness. In my arms, was a swaddled baby girl.

Presumably, this was Eve.

Suddenly, the harpsichord from the earlier conversation made noise downstairs. A melancholy song filled the air. The baby stayed asleep. Then, a few minutes later, a gunshot echoed in the house. The baby jolted awake. Her cries echoed in the small room. Suddenly, a figure materialised in the corner of the bedroom.

It was the tall man.

I watched through Rhea's eyes, as the tall man cradled the baby and put her back to sleep. Then, he placed the baby in her cot before disappearing. The door to the room opened. Frehorn stood there, blood coating his hands and the handle of the knife he was holding. The knife was shaped like a key and the tip of the blade was rusted with dried blood. He lunged at Eve, but Rhea was quicker.

Rhea jumped in front of Eve's cot, the blade entering her stomach. Immense pain ran through me as my vision flashed white again.

Then, slowly, faded to darkness.