Rouge et Noir

“Ashes to ashes… Dust to dust…”
William watched silently as dirt was shoveled onto the simple wooden box containing his older brother's remains. It puzzled him as to why it was a closed-casket ceremony. Why wouldn't they let him see Christopher one last time? He'd been there when his body was found… had he decayed so quickly in two days time? He felt his mother's arm slide around his waist, pulling him closer as she sobbed. He was her only child now. He leaned into her a little, resting his head on her shoulder, and trying desperately not to cry himself.
The small family returned home in slow silence. William trailed behind his mourning parents, unsure of how to react anymore. He wanted to be sad for his brother, but he also wanted to be strong for his parents. He was shaken out of his confusion by a small but strong hand on his shoulder.
“Don't worry, child. He's in a much better place now. Made sure of that.”
William forced a smile at his grandmother. He loved her dearly, and she always had a kind word for him when the rest of the world seemed set to do him in. She patted his arm gently and proffered a muffin from her bottomless bag. He nibbled at it, not really hungry, but grateful for anything to distract him.
“I'm going to walk Gran home…” he said abruptly. Mother turned, paling slightly, but Father wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist.
“It'll be okay. It's bright out on the path today… Go on,” Father motioned, “Make sure mother gets home safe. Perhaps… Perhaps you'd best stay the night with her, as well.”
William began to question his father, but caught the look of despair and pleading in his eyes and just nodded instead.

Navigating the path through the forest could be tricky to those new to the land, but both William and his Gran had lived there their entire lives. In fact, William hadn't been much farther than the nearest village. Virtually everything they needed was right there at home.
He felt so at home in the forest, and couldn't figure out what had happened to his brother. What had gone wrong? What was so different about that night…?
He bound ahead of his grandmother, the aura of the bright light filtering down through the trees invigorating him. A slight motion in the underbrush caught his attention and he half-leapt to see what it was. A hand on the back of his cloak jerked him backwards with surprising force.
“Stay on the path!” Grandmother admonished the stunned boy.
“It was just a rabbit, Gran…”
“Your brother strayed from the path, and look where it got him…” Her tone was grave, face set and serious, then continued on without another word.

William sat on the floor quietly as his Gran knitted. He wanted to ask what she meant, but didn't want to seem naïve. His eyes must have been brimming with questions because she put down her knitting and sighed. She took off her glasses and cleaned them before speaking.
“The forest can be a dangerous place, child. You know that. The wild beasts are always there, even when you can't see them, waiting to catch you unawares.”
William nodded solemnly. All his life he'd been warned of the wolves, but he didn't fear them. They never much bothered him, and he certainly never bothered him. In face he'd made friends with several of the huge, grizzled beasts, coaxing them out of the trees to eat from his hand. But he'd never tell anyone this, and was careful to conceal his actions. Already there were those in the village who were skeptical of him for no more than the color of his hair.
His Gran gave a light tug on those same brindled locks, seeing his attention drift that quickly. He snapped back from his own world into the real one, to stare up at her. She continued.
“Some people of the village think it was the wolves that got your brother, but we know better, the elders.”
“What do you mean, Gran? Wasn't really the wolves got Chris?” William's eyes were bright with curiosity, and he felt a bit relieved that it might not be the fault of his woodland friends.
“Had it been the wolves, there would be a lot less left of him.”
“But something tore out his throat…” he pushed, remembering the sick feeling he got when he saw his brother's body in the arms of two villagemen.
“Indeed it did, but it wasn't a wolf.”
“Then what was it?”
“A vampire.”
“Vampire?” William scoffed, “No such thing!”
“Indeed there are, boy. Your brother was lucky. We found him fresh and managed to keep him from returning as one. But if you're killed by a vampire and no one is there to take care of yyou you rise up as one yourself.”
“Take care of you how…?” William raised one eyebrow, skeptical, and looking half his age.
“Well, first thing you do is drive a good Whitethorn stake through the heart. Then you nail the feet and hands to the coffin to make sure it can't get up.”
“They did that to Chris?!?” he drew back, feeling ill at the thought of his beloved brother's poor body maimed in such a manner.
“Had to. Else he might have come back and killed us all. Even you.”
“But Mum and Da said that vampires are just… old wives' tales!”
“They've never seen one to know!”
This caught William's attention immediately, and he settled down a bit, curious again, but cautious.
“You have…?” he asked, lips pursed.
“I have. As recent as since you were born, right here in these woods. Aye, but it's been a long time…”
“W-What did it look like?”
“Like any man. Which is why you should beware strangers in the shadows and dark. But, should you meet one, you'll know him by his cold touch and breathless voice.”
“Breathless voice? Like a whisper?”
“No, child. A vampire is but the living dead and has no need to breathe,” her words were measured, “A man who wanders the night forest alone is either a fool or a devil. Keep you not company with either.”
William nodded.

The next morning he said goodbye to his gran and headed home through the forest. Despite her warning, looking around first to make sure he was alone, he slipped into the thick trees, calling softly.
“Lilli? Lilli, where are you?” He turned as a cold nose bumped his hand and stared into soft silver-gold eyes. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around the slender wolf's neck, ruffling her thick ruff. The grizzled animal licked at his face, and as always he found it hard to believe people could ever fear wolves. He gave Lilith one last tight hug and went on his way to the village.

Things in the village were business as usual. William tended the chickens as he always did, watching the younger children play catch-you-catch me. He started at a small voice behind him.
“They never ask me to play… and when I ask to join they run away…” It was Willow, and as her name implied she was slender and graceful, soft and delicate. She picked up one of the chickens, a small golden ball of feathers, and hugged it. The girl often kept him company as he guarded the birds. He trusted that the wolves, his wolves, would leave them be, but other forest creatures… He had no rapport with the hawks or the foxes and weasels.
“Their loss, then, luv.” He smiled, seeing it returned. She busied herself taking count of the chicks. The number had increased by eight as of that morning, and she delighted in meeting the newcomers. Because of William's watchful eye, the number of tiny birds lost in a month was minimal, no more than two or three in the cold months when hunting animals ravaged the pens.

Summer quickly gave way to autumn. The air turned crisp and cool, and the leaves rained from the trees with the slightest breeze. William's mother fretted over the coming winter, knowing it would be a hard one by the feelings in her bones. He loved the snow, personally. It blanketed the world and made even the darkest night sparkle.
“Cold winter brings out the wolves. Makes 'em terrible mean. You'll be careful of them. I'll not lose both of my children to their jaws.”
“I don't fear the wolves a bit. I think they're just misunderstood, they are. I bet we could even make friends wit them if we tried…” In a second his mother had him by the ear, twisting is painfully.
“Don't you let me, or anyone else, hear you talking like that EVER again. Wolves are murdering brutes. They killed your brother!”
“Ow! But… Gran said it wasn't wolves done it!” he rubbed his ear as his mother let go and pl her her hands on her hips, giving him a condescending look.
“Then just what was it, praytell?”
“A vampire!”
“Oh. OH! What stories your grandmother has been filling your head with!”
“S'not a story! Gran said it's true! She's *SEEN* one!”
“She has, has she? Well, I'm sure Gran has seen many things, but some of them surely were tricks of her eyes.”
“Maybe…” William turned his eyes to the leaves fluttering to the ground and the shadows of the oncoming season that danced among them.

The snow fell deep and thick, and the entire village went about in their warmest garments. Even bundled under layers of wool and linen, William attracted the attention of the village girls. They chattered in hushed, giggled tones of his light eyes and tri-colored hair, so rare and unusual among the peoples of that region. While the elders felt uncomfortable about those brown, gold, and silver locks, the girls found them entrancing; the way they fell about his face in thick waves, soft and silky, unlike that of the other boys. In a community where the regular was brown and brown, his flashing winter blue eyes and the piercing gaze they gave was subject of many a blossoming gossip.
This day William had dressed himself as warm as possible, preparing to make a visit to his grandmother. Her joints were paining her, as well as her lungs, from the chill air and bad winter. Hotheother grumbled under her breath as she prepared a parcel of foods and medicines.
“It's looking to storm. If it starts to snow, stay to the path, and spend the night with your gran. I'll not have you lost and dying in a blizzard.”
“I'm not a child, mum. I'm more'n old enough to care for myself.”
“That I suppose you are. It's past due you find yourself a nice girl and settle down, isn't it? Your brother was to be wed this spring come. I hope to see you married before I pass.”
“Mother…” William half-sighed. He disliked the idea of marriage, and aside from little Willow, found the village girls little more than a flock of hens who did nothing but stand around in groups and cackle to each other excitedly. He found himself wondering if girls everywhere were like this, or just the plain lot in his town.
“Mind you take something to protect yourself with…”
“I know, mum, the wolves.” He gave her a smas has he slid a dragon-handled dagger into his boot top. The opal eyes glittered like his own, and its blade was as sharp as his tongue could be.
Hefting his pack onto his shoulder, he paused only long enough to wrap his scarf tight around his neck. His gran had knitted it from the softest wool dyed the reddest red. It reminded him of the way the thick ruff of a wolf felt against his face.
He passed a pack of biddies, giggling and pointing. They looked back aorthorth at each other, and finally one broke away from the rest of the group. She danced up to him, blocking his path.
“And where are we off to, William, dear?”
“To see my ailing gran.” He answered with calm politeness.
“Such a caring, sensitive boy. Not at all like the others about. Aren't you afraid, though? Even a little? To go through the forest alone?”
“Why should I be?”
“The wolves!”
“Wolves don't frighten me any more than lightning does. They're just animals.”
“But VICIOUS ones!”
“Animals.”
“You're so brave,” she fluttered closer to him, and would have laid her head on his breast had he not sidestepped a bit, “Facing down those monsters to come to the aid of family. I hope some day I marry a man as fine and noble…”
“I'm sure you will, Cordelia. Now, if you will excuse me…” he gently guided her out of his way and continued out of the village.

The forest air was different from that in the town. There it was cold and biting, as oppressive as a black fog, and chilling to the bone to the point that to be in it you'd think you'd never get warm again. It seemed to suck all warmth from your flesh. The air in the woods was crisp and made him feel so alive that he paid little heed to the sky, as white with clouds as the ground, until he looked up and noticed he could no longer see the sun through the thick layers.
“Excuse me…”
William jumped as he suddenly found himself staring into sable brown eyes. He backed off a little to get a good look at their owner. He was dressed well, too well to be from one of the neighboring villages. His skin was pale, paler than anyone from the area, and seemed paler for the dark, carefully maintained curls that cascaded down from under his tri-pointed hat. He stood a half-head taller than William, and easily half again his mass.
“W-where did you spring from?” he managed after catching his startled breath.
“From the forest.”
“On a hunt, then, sir? Lost your way?”
“Aye, my young friend. I do so love a good hunt.”
“Without a horse?”
“I regret to say he's abandoned me,” he raised his eyebrow at the neck of the bottle peeking from William's pack, “Might you spare a drink of that to a weary traveler, my dear child.”
“I'm not a child,” William snorted, “Besides, it's for my Gran…” his voice faltered as the larger man slid the bag from his shoulder and placed it on his own.
“I don't suppose you'd have time for a brief picnic… I know the perfect spot…”

William quietly watched the strange man chew thoughtfully on a walnut cookie. He'd never seen anyone like this stranger before. He'd never found himself curious about either sex, but now wondered what it would be like to have this man hold him…
“You haven't told me your name…”
“What? Oh, it's Angelus. And yours?”
“William Thorn, sir… Just Angelus?”
“Just Angelus.” The corner of his mouth turned down in a small frown, “It doesn't suit me?”
“It does, sir. It's just… unusual is all.” William focused on his own cookie. He nearly rolled off the snowbank they were sitting in when Angelus hand shot out towards him, neatly plucking his dagger from his boot.
“Pretty item. More decorative than useful, though.”
“It's to fend off the wolves.” he admitted reluctantly. The forest echoed with Angelus' laughter.
“With this little skewer? I've seen bigger toothpicks!”
“Well… I'm not much afraid of the wolves, anyway. Aren't you?”
“What reason should I have to be afraid of wolves?” his tone was arrogant. William stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. This was the first time he'd met someone who didn't fear the beasts, either.
“Most people think they mon monsters… and… one killed my brother…”
“But what do you really believe?” Angelus raised one eyebrow, hearing doubt in his voice.
“I…. I think a vampire did it!” William blurted out, “They're real! My Gran says so!”
“Vampires!” Angelus stood and stared down on him, laughing, “Old wives tales! Peasant superstition! A bright young man like yourself doesn't truly believe that?”
“I…”
“I suppose next you'll be telling me about the monsters under your bed!”
“My Gran wouldn't lie!” William was suddenly on his feet, defending the old woman's honor.
“No…. No, I suppose she wouldn't. Well, where is this wonderful Gran of yours?”
“Due south of here as the crow flies…”
“Then why not go direct through the forest instead of drudging along this dreary path? I thought you didn't fear the wolves…”
“I don't… but it's still easy to get lost, you know.”
“Rubbish! I'll prove it to you,” Angelus swung the bag onto his shoulder, taking a swig of the potato liquor William had brought for his grandmother, “I'll cut straight through the forest and beat you there with no problem.”
“Careful with that stuff! It's stronger than a bloody ox,” he said, taking the bottle from Angelus, “Sky's dark. If you're caught in the woods when it starts snowing, you could freeze to death, and it would be on my head for getting you dead.”
“A lad with a conscious. No need for worry, I'll be safe and warm keeping your Gran company while you battle the snow. I'll be you anything you want.”
“Bet me a fine horse. Any colour I like.”
“Bet you… your heart's desire…” Angelus' eyes flashed with fragments of hammered gold.
“And if I lose…?”
“You can give me…. a kiss.”
“I beg your pardon, sir!” He pulled away from Angelus' seeking grip, feeling his cold hands brush his cheek as he stepped back.
“Have I misjudged you, then? My apologies.”
“No… No. If that's truly what you want…”
“It is.”
“Then that's a bet.”
“I'll see you at your Gran's house, then.” Angelus bowed low and started through the forest. William stood for a moment watching him go, before calling to him.
“Oh, Angelus, sir!”
“Yes?” he turned to focus bronze eyes on him.
“I think I'd fancy a black horse with a white mane and tail.”
“Indeed!” Angelus laughed, and vanished into the black wood and white powder.

The snow was coming down with considerable force when the old woman heard a knock at the door. The only person she knew foolish enough to brave such weather to visit her was her grandchild.
“Come in.” she sighed, putting down her knitting, “You're a reckless child, my dear, coming out in this…” Her rheumy eyes met deep gold. She scrambled for her cross, “Get thee back to Hell from whence you came.”
“You must be Gran. William's told me much about you…” Angelus smiled, his face a devilish mask.
“What have you done with my grandson?”
“Nothing that he didn't want.”
Arthritic fingers given strength by grief and desperation locked tight around the handle of a poker. The swing was well aimed, and with strong force behind it, but not enough to match that of the vampire…

William made his way slowly through the thick snowfall, taking a moment every now and again to readjust his scarf. His hand went to the shadowy gray form that trotted along his side. With his wolf at his side, he feared neither the flurry of white that bit at his nose, or the darkening evening shadows.
As he rounded the curve to the small cottage, he turned sympathetic eyes on Lilith.
“Go on now, luv. Gran will die of fright if she sees you. Don't worry, I'll see you on my way home.” The wolf gave a familiar, long whine and padded off into the trees.
His rap at the door was distinct, a tattoo of an old folk song.
“Come in.”
He caught glowing eyes as soon as he stepped through the door.
“So. You got here before me, just as you said you would.”
“I did.”
“Where's my Gran?”
“Gone out to the woodpile to fetch more logs.”
“A real gentleman would never let an old lady go out, not on a night like this.”
“She won't be long.” The golden light in his eyes was disconcerting. Keeping his own eyes on Angelus, William ventured over to the window, teasing back the curtains with his fingertips and glancing out.
“She's not there at all…” Turning to face Angelus he saw his face flicker to that of a demon. The air in the little cottage suddenelt elt as icy as the winds outside. Angelus was two steps ahead of him as he darted for the door, blocking his escape path. William twisted away, stumbling over a rumple in the carpet. He landed hard on the floor, his left palm shattering the lenses of his grandmother's glasses. He looked down at them, and the shards of glass embedded in his pacrimcrimson streams trickling down his flesh.
Angelus' hand closed around his bloodied wrist, lifting him easily to his feet. William stood riveted as the bigger man picked the bits of lens from his skin and forced his fingers into a cup, allowing the blood to pool in the center.
“I didn't notice it before… When we were out in the cold… I couldn't see your breath. Your kind truly doesn't breathe, does it?”
“What do you know about my kind?” Angelus purred, leaning close.
“My Gran told me plenty!” His uninjured hand came up clumsily with his dagger, but it was plucked from his fingers as easily as it had been from his boot earlier. The tip felt cold against his jaw as Angelus forced him to kneel, following him down.
“Are you very much afraid?”
“It wouldn't do me much good to be afraid, would it?” Angelus laughed at this and put his lips to the scarlet in the cup of his palm. William flinched at the contact.
“What big eyes you have…”
“All the better to see you with.”
“They say seeing is believing, but I'd never swear to it…”
“You must be freezing. Why don't you take off your wet scarf? A shame to hide such a long, lovely neck.” Dropping his wounded hand, Angelus reached up and slowly unwrapped the soft material, letting the fringes on the ends to brush William's cheek as he allowed it to fall in a crumpled pile in the young man's lap.
“What should I do with it?”
“I think… we'll keep it for now… I'm sure we can find an alternate use for it…” Angelus leaned in close, tilting William's head to the side slightly. A plaintive howl outside caused both to look towards the window. Angelus smiled, “Just the wolves, my sweet William.”
“I told you, I don't fear the wolves…” He stood carefully, going to the window and peering out, “They've come to sing us carols, my forest friends,” he turned to Angelus, the light of the fire catching his hair and turning it moon gold, “It's so cold out… no wonder they howl so…” his eyes scanned the gathering pack for steely fur and white-gold eyes.
“Are you sorry for them?”
“Yes. And for you too!” William swung around, fingers wrapped tight around the rifle Angelus had been carrying, aiming it at the vampire's chest. Angelus leapt to his feet, taken aback, then laughed.
“You're a bold, fearless child, aren't you? And now you must give me back my gun…” he smiled, reaching out towards him. William pulled the trigger, but the shot went wide, shattering an ornament on a shelf. Angelus' face twisted into a demon visage and he stared down the young man who's eyes were wide with more curiosity than fear.
“What are you? Are you a man or a demon?”
“Not one kind or the other. Both.”
“Are you only a man when you dress that way? Is it only a mask?”
Angelus gave him a curious, contemplative look, then unbuttoned his shirt, slowly pulling it off and spreading his arms. The firelight highlighted his muscles in reds and golds accented with kohl shadows.
“My, what big arms you have.”
“The better to hug you with…” Angelus slowly rose to his feet, like a cobra rearing to strike, face melting back to human, taking careful, restrained steps towards William.
“Well… perhaps… You did win your bet, didn't you. A gentleman's bet. They say the Prince of Darkness is a gentleman. They're right. A fine gentleman.”
“Gentlemen always keep their promises,” Angelus smiled, all charm and manner, “Are you a gentleman? Indeed I won my bet. So now, you owe me…”
“I remember.”
“…a kiss. Will you be honorable and pay me, or not?” Angelus gently took William's face into his hand, trailing kisses down from his forehead to his lips. William yelped and tugged out of his grip.
“Bloody hell, what big teeth you have!”
“All the better to eat you .”
.”
All William saw was golden eyes. He came up fast with the rifle and fired. This shot didn't miss, and tore into Angelus' arm. The vampire howled in pain and closed the distance between them in a blink of the eye, knocking the gun from William's hands. Crushing fingers closed around his shoulder and slammed him against the wall. William's eyes went wide, then they softened a bit. Angelus gave him a strange look, as the young man slowly raised his hands and rested them on his injured arm.
“I'm sorry…” his eyes were glassy, “I didn't think a demon could bleed…” Angelus stared at him in disbelief as he pulled free from his loosened grip and retrieved his scarf, tying it around the wound.
“It will heal. They always do.”
William turned away from him and sat down in his grandmother's rocking chair, pulling her shawl around his shoulders. He listened to the cry of the wolves for a short while before looking up at Angelus with shining eyes.
“Will it hurt? Did Gran… when you… was it painfu “It can be, if I want it to.”
“I don't want to die, but I suppose there's nothing much I can do about that, is there?”
“Perhaps…”
“What do you mean…?” William stared at him, eyes wild as those of a wolf.
“Your Gran won't be coming back, but maybe you might…”

A day and a half had passed and they could wait no longer. Along the forest through the path the Thorns led an armed search party. If it was wolves took their youngest and last, the see see every one of the beasts dead.
They arrived at the cottage by noon, and found it dark, door closed and latched from the outside. Mother slowly, cautiously opened the door and peered in, calling for her mother-in-law and son. Her eyes picked up a flash of metal in the poorly lit room, and she knelt to see what it was. Gran's broken glasses, bloodstained and twisted. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, mingled with the metallic smell of blood and of something far more primal.
One of the village men found the old woman's body a ways into the woods where the wolves had dragged her, but of her grandson there was no trace.

Father didn't know what to do. They'd lost both their children in a year, as well as his own mother. His wife was absolutely inconsolable. She sat day after day in the rocking chair she'd nursed them in, holding articles of their clothes, glassy-eyed. She'd lost so much weight in so short a time…
“It'll be a month soon…”
“Why? Why our children? First poor Christopher, then dear, sweet William. What did they ever do…?” She collapsed into tears.
“I don't know, dear… I don't.” he sighed, “I'm going hunting with some of the others, but I promise I'll be back soon. There's a wolf that's been at the pens, and…”
“We never lost a chicken when William was watching them… and Christopher was so good at guarding the sheep…”
“I know.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, keeping sad eyes on her as he walked out the door.

No moon lit the sky that night, but that didn't matter to her. Mother stood stirring the stew. She still had a tendency to make far more than she intended, more than just two people could eat. A soft knock at the door caused her to jump.
“Who's there?”
“Mother…?” She felt her heart stop in her chest, and took a slow step towards the door.
“W-William…? Is that…? Can it be?” She stumbled to the door and opened it a crack before flinging it all the way. She stared into eyes the color of winter skies and choked back a sob, hands to her mouth, eyes tearing up.
“Mum…”
“Oh… Oh, my darling!” She threw her arms around his body in a crushing, maternal grip, “Am I dreaming? Where have you been so long?”
“Well taken care of…” She stepped back to look at her son. Well cared for indeed! He was draped in the finest silks and satins, hunting clothes befitting a prince. The only token of his village life was his red scarf.
“What have you been doing dressed so well? Oh, what do I care? You're home!” her face was alight with life as she took his hands, then it fell, “Oh! Your hands are so cold! You must be frozen to the bone! Come sit by the fire and warm yourself.”
“Thank you, mother…” His eyes changed. From deepest blue to green to gold. She gasped and stepped back as her youngest's face changed from sweet to satanic. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, giving her a brief view of two freshly healed puncture wounds on his neck before a large shadow at the door commanded her attention.
“This is my birthhome, Angelus. Why don't you come in and sit with mother and I for a while…?”

“You could have changed her, you know. She would have made a fine caretaker for us.” Angelus snorted over a snifter of whiskey.
“It would have gotten tired quickly enough. She could be a bit of a nag when she wanted. Besides, she wouldn't have been happy that way.” William sighed, staring into the crystal goblet of red wine he held.
“Phaugh. You care about what she wanted?”
“She is… WAS still my mother, Angelus…”
“Whatever. You'll shake off these human sentiments soon enough,” he leaned across the couch and kissed William on the ear. The Newborne turned to smile impishly at his sire. His attention was distracted, then commanded by the chorus of voices outside the window of the manorhouse. Angelus snorted, “I can't believe they followed you all the way here…” He was more amused than annoyed as his childe rose from his seat to part the heavy curtains, cracking the window a bit so that a form as silvery -dark as moonlight shadows on snow, could enter the room. Lilith shook herself as he knelt by her side, then licked his face. William turned his own wolf-blue eyes on Angelus, smiling with all the suavity of a satyr.
“Of course they did. I can't feature living in a place without them. I love the company of wolves.”

~FIN~