Page 49 of Fragile Wicked Things

Two days had passed since Thomas’s departure from Thornfield.

I relived those last moments together when he begged me to leave with him, and I wondered, what if I had gone with him?

Would Rochester have hunted us down? There was that possibility.

No, I had made the correct decision with the information I had at the time when I thought humanity had returned to Rochester, that it would be just the two of us at Thornfield.

Having Blanche there changed everything.

Rarely did I see Rochester and I spent most of my time hiding away in my room not daring to venture out into that house, afraid of what I would find.

It was torturous. Often, I picked up a book but found myself staring at the same page for hours.

I laundered some clothes in my bathroom, hung them up to dry on the curtain rod of the shower, wrote letters to Thomas I knew would never be mailed and paced my room.

Twice a day there was a knock on my door and a tray of food would be left for me.

One day, I heard footsteps approaching my room, followed by a shuffle at my door and a note was slipped under.

When the letter carrier walked away, I picked up the letter, turned it over, and inspected Rochester's handwriting.

I ripped it up without reading and shoved it back under the door.

The days were quiet, and one early morning, when I peeked out, I spied Rochester and Blanche entering Catherine's bedroom.

It incensed me that he would dare to share with Blanche what had once belonged to Catherine.

They weren't quiet. Blanche was louder than Rochester, and her shrill laughter was heard in my room, just as I used to hear Rochester in the attic with those women.

Nights were worse. I heard screams until their victims succumbed to their every desire, no longer able to fight, praying for death as the Vampyres prolonged their agony.

I buried my head under my pillow to muffle the sounds, but I could still hear them and the otherworldly sounds of the creatures.

I held onto the pillow tighter, trying to drown out the screaming from below, then came banging at my door.

It burst open and I flung the pillow off me.

Franklin was standing there, blocking my doorway.

My eyes glanced to the balcony door, but it was no use as he would stop me before I could escape.

Sitting up in bed, I swung my legs over the side and spoke, but when my voice cracked, I swallowed hard and tried again to sound calm.

"Blanche told you no harm was to come to me. She ordered you."

He seemed undeterred and rushed towards me. "Who do you think sent me?"

Sudden terror struck me—did something happen to Rochester, leaving me alone with Blanche? "Where's Lord Rochester?"

Franklin reached out, rubbing the coarse palm of his hand against my cheek, neck and shoulder, then grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me out.

I stumbled in the corridor. I stuttered that he was not to touch me.

The tears were about to flow at any moment as he dragged me down the stairs and into the drawing room, but when he threw me onto the floor in front of Blanche, the sight of her angered me and I would not let her see me crumble.

Beside her, Rochester fed on a young blond about my age.

She looked at me, paralyzed by fear, eyes wide, lips quivering.

The commotion had startled him, and he turned to me, embarrassed at first, and then anger surfaced. "Why is Jane here?"

"I thought she could use some company. Sit near me." Blanche lifted her hand toward me, and I stood, walked to her outstretched hand, and sat on the edge of the sofa as far away as I could. "Closer," she said, and I obeyed. She held me in her arms and breathed me in. "Fear is intoxicating."

"Jane, go to your room," said Rochester.

"Come now, Edward. You have yours. I have mine.

" Blanche played with my hair, twisting strands through her fingers and then running them down my neck.

"I could turn her if you'd like. Or maybe you'd rather do that yourself.

Then again, did you think I'd never realize your betrayal in England?

For seventy-five years, I waited for your return while you played house with that little girl.

From time to time, I watched the two of you from a distance and I was stunned by the way you looked at Catherine. You used to look at me that way."

"Let her go, Blanche."

"You don't look at Jane quite the same way, but then I found the love note you had written her."

The letter I had torn to shreds! I should have burned it in the fire instead, never to be seen by anyone.

"I realized over time you could love Jane just as you had loved Catherine. And what happens to poor Blanche? Pushed aside again. It took decades to get you back, Edward. I'm not waiting again for her little heart to stop of natural causes when I could..."

Rochester was on top of Blanche in moments, his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing, holding her down on the sofa.

I jumped off, but Franklin was there by my side and grabbed me.

No one stepped in to stop Rochester, and I held my breath, anticipating a devastating outcome either way.

Then Blanche couldn't contain her laughter any longer.

"Have you learned little? Choking a Vampyre does nothing." She spit out the words through more laughter, ridiculing him in front of the others. Rochester lifted his hand, poised to strike her with his claws when she stopped giggling. "What do you think will happen to your Jane?"

Franklin sank his fingers into my arms, breaking skin.

"Edward," I pleaded.

Rochester hesitated and lifted himself off Blanche, his eyes cast down in defeat. Franklin threw me towards Rochester, who caught me and pushed me behind him. His eyes rose to look at Blanche.

"The truth is, Blanche, I could love anyone more than I can ever love you."

The smile that had been on Blanche's face disappeared and she stared hard at Rochester, neither of them making a move or uttering another word.

Then the young blond Rochester had been feeding from let out a cry, then a whimper and her hand shot up to her throat that had been slashed open by Blanche.

Her mouth opened and closed and she made little hollow sounds gasping for air.

The young woman's wide eyes followed Blanche as she dipped her finger into the wound and licked the blood, swirling her finger deep into her mouth.

The Vampyre twins stirred, came forward, then pulled back.

I saw how they stared at the young woman's throat, watched as the desire quickly overtook them and they pounced on her, ripping her apart, sucking the life from her to take pleasure in the last moments of her life. My breath quickened.

Rochester could not save me from the same fate.

Franklin pushed Rochester to the floor which left me in the middle of the room, exposed and vulnerable.

Struggling beneath him, Rochester flipped Franklin over, pinning him down, but Blanche's men jumped him, and hauled him off Franklin.

They held Rochester down and he screamed like an animal, his eyes blackened. The darkness had returned.

Blanche stepped closer to me, circled around, at times stroking my arm.

"See how he loves you, Jane? Can you understand why I can't let this go on?

The question is, do you love him back? I'm sure Edward would want to know too.

It would be more torturous to know he destroyed yet another woman who loved him. "

"Shut your mouth," Rochester shouted to her.

"Doesn't she know, Edward?"

Unsure what Blanche alluded to, I looked to Rochester.

"Oh, I can tell she doesn't know. I don't blame you for not telling her. After all, why would you want her to see the monster that you are? Oh, but please let me tell her. Our dear Edward was married with a family once."

"I'm aware," I said.

"Did he tell you what happened to them? How he turned towards the darkness..."

"Shut up!" Rochester struggled against the Vampyres, but there were too many. "I'll destroy you."

"Our poor Edward had to chase down his wife as she lured him towards the animal shed, away from the home they used to share.

When he got there, he could make out the sound of her heart, the fast pace of it as it pounded against her chest. Fear.

The smell of her fear drove him to such ecstasy that when he ripped into her neck and heart, I don't think he had ever reached such a point of exhilaration with her beforehand. "

Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Shall I continue? Or do you need some time to digest?" Blanche giggled at her joke.

"Stop." It was no longer a shout but the quiet voice of a broken man. I looked at Rochester, his face turned away, staring into the hearth's fire. The others let go of him. Blanche grabbed my chin to force me to look at her.

"My Edward was not satisfied and he turned now to the home he once shared with his family. There was something better, sweeter, purer. When he entered, he found it empty, but he knew she was there, hiding. He crept up to where she hid under the bed and in his sweetest voice, he said..."

"It's Daddy."

My head snapped to Rochester when he spoke.

"Come out. You're safe. Daddy won't let any harm..." His voice broke, and tears sprang from his eyes.

"She was a child," Blanche continued. "The blood of the innocent is the most desirable.

And when he looked down at what he had done, when he held his daughter's lifeless body in his arms, he was horrified.

He begged for forgiveness. He begged for death.

Neither came. He buried them, one atop the other, in what had been his burial spot and tied a rope around two pieces of sticks, fashioning them into a cross, and although they burned into his skin, he continued to work away.

God abandons you when you're dead yet still walk the Earth.

Then Edward took holy water his wife kept in a bottle, a gift from their reverend, and consecrated the ground so they would not return as he did.

The fool. He had given them his blood. He thought he was saving their souls, but he trapped them there, bound by the holy ground surrounding them.

His little girl still calls out to her daddy. "

Rochester hung his head low; beyond shame, beyond remorse. Rochester could not save me now.