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Maybe it was the grave’s fault, or maybe it was the watch. Maybe everything had been normal before that afternoon—before he was asked to participate as a friend in his master’s coming of age ceremony—before that strange thing had come and taken over his body—
But no. That had been his master’s father, in the red cloak, with the terrifying monster, and it had been his master’s father who his master had tried to cut down, for him, even though he was just an unworthy servant, and though his master’s blade had struck true and knocked his lord father away, it had not stopped the black chains from reaching for his master to wrap around him and plunge him—here, probably, because here was where Gilbert had ended up when he’d knocked his master out of the way and gotten himself tangled in the chains produced by his master’s father’s monster before getting plunged down.
There were a lot more monsters here.
Gilbert had been running for hours, through the black and the wet and the things that looked like toys inside a candy box. Some had tried to attack him—he’d gotten away—he stumbled once into a girl a bit younger than he was, with long black hair and a red checkered coat, but she claimed she was a Chain looking for a Contractor (whatever the hell that was) and declared him wholly unfit for her purposes before vanishing into the inky blackness.
Gilbert had begun running again soon after, and now he was stumbling, collapsing and panting, on the ground, unable to run any more.
He hoped his master was safe. He knew that Oz would hate that he’d struck his own father, and Gil wished he was there to comfort him in the aftermath, but better that Oz should be upset than dead, or here.
As Gilbert sat and panted and maybe cried a little, a completely normal-looking bird circled above him before landing on his knee.
“You’ve gotten yourself stuck,” said the bird disapprovingly.
Gilbert screamed.
“Kah!” the bird said disapprovingly, and waited for Gilbert to calm down. “You,” it said, once Gil was no longer screaming, “are to be my Contractor. So it was decided a century ago. I am tired of waiting, especially since they have begun moving on their own, without a Glen to guide them, and with only Jack’s treachery to light the way.”
“I…I don’t understand,” Gilbert said. “Who…?”
“You will understand in time,” said the bird. “For now: make a Contract with me, and I will bring you out of the Abyss. We will need to move fast if you have any intention of keeping that world you came from safe. B-Rabbit has freed itself from Jack, but I fear it will do something drastic without the Baskervilles to properly guide the Chains.”
“What’s a Chain ?!” Gilbert spluttered.
“I am,” said the bird. “I am Raven, one of the five Black-Winged Chains who guard the doors between this world and yours. We were formerly the most powerful Chains in existence, before the creation of B-Rabbit, and even now we rival it, but B-Rabbit is now acting on its own, with a Contractor whose will is only that the B-Rabbit have a happy existence.”
“Is there…something wrong with being happy?” Gilbert ventured.
“The B-Rabbit wishes to no longer be in existence. Its Contractor knows nothing of this, and the only person who does know anything of the matter would see B-Rabbit destroyed in an instant for his own goals, whatever those are.”
“You don’t know?” asked Gilbert, drawn in despite himself.
“I do not. The hearts of humans are foreign to me, and I only know B-Rabbit’s goals because it once asked my assistance. Which I did not give.”
“Why?”
“I have no intentions on seeing anyone throw their own life away, especially not a Chain who was only recently a child’s toy,” said the bird. “It understands nothing of this world and its duties. It is suffering, and I pity it, but self-destruction will do nothing to alleviate any of its suffering or the suffering of those around it. It is a Chain’s duty to accompany its Contractor towards their goal: nothing more, and nothing less.”
“Then why do you want a contract with me ?” Gilbert asked.
“I am hoping, young boy, that your goals align with mine,” replied the bird. “I am Raven, the oldest of the five Black-Winged Chains. I will grant you the powers to carve your way out of this Abyss, and to protect that which you hold dear, and in exchange, you will help me stop the B-Rabbit from ending its own existence in the name of justice.”
Gilbert had only ever really held one thing dear; everything else important to him he had grown to love through their proximity to his master. He had not been down here long: hours, a day at most. He would be able to be there for Oz in the aftermath of his father’s murder attempt.
Gilbert took a deep breath and looked Raven in the eyes. “I accept,” he said.
Gilbert awoke to the sun shining through the windows of a gazebo in an unfamiliar garden. He was lying on a couch, a blanket tucked around him, and the raven perched on top of the couch. He carefully sat up, folding the blanket and putting it aside, looking around the room in the hopes that Oz would be there.
He was not.
Instead, there were four unfamiliar men and three unfamiliar girls scattered around the room: a man with silvery, unevenly cut hair over one eye and fancy, purplish clothing was sitting next to a prim blonde girl, maybe a year or so younger than Gilbert himself, who was chatting with him while watching another young girl—the girl Gilbert had seen in the Abyss, who had called herself a Chain, took bites out of everything on the table. A few feet away, the third and final girl, an expressionless small blonde, stood motionless next to the other two men, who were conversing in low voices. One was taller than the other, and one blonder, and the expressionless girl was standing next to the taller man. The taller man wore his plain blond hair in a ponytail over his shoulder, and from the back seemed like an elegant and probably noble young man. His conversation partner’s green eyes were grim and focused, though, his entire posture on edge and his own golden hair pinned up and away from his face in a style that Gilbert would have thought was deceptively simple were it not obvious that it was, actually, just simply pinned up and away. His clothes were just as fine as the other man’s, though these were deceptively simple, and appeared both easy to move around in and, just slightly armored. One of his hands rested on a scythe, and his fingers tapped it as he spoke, and Gilbert got the impression that this was not a man who took anything lightly.
It was this man who was the first to notice that Gilbert was awake. Immediately, a smile snapped over his face like a shroud, and he tapped his conversation partner on the arm.
“Why, my dear Vincent, it appears our fellow guest has awoken!” he said, walking past and towards Gilbert, the girl-Chain from the Abyss leaving the table to walk by his side, arms folded and eying Gilbert like he, personally, had come to steal her favorite toy. “Might I welcome you to this lovely, humble abode?”
The man’s voice was lilting, half singsong and half mocking, as he extended a hand to Gilbert. Gilbert stared at it for too long, until the hand was withdrawn and the man delightedly ruffled his hair instead.
“My, Vincent, isn’t he just adorable ?”
“He truly is,” Vincent said, smirking lazily. “Can you see the family resemblance, my dear?”
The shorter man laughed, though Gilbert felt horror course through him. Family resemblance? Could this possibly have anything to do with whoever he’d been before he lost his memories?
But—Gil didn’t want to have anything to do with whoever his family had been. He wanted to go home, to his master, and to the Vessaliuses, he wanted—
“He may be contracted to the Nightray family’s Chain,” said the young girl sitting at the table, teacup in hand, “but it was Rainsworth property that he appeared on, so we have finders’ rights.”
“You misunderstand us, Lady Sharon,” said the shorter, blonder man, giving Gilbert’s hair one final ruffle before letting go and flinging himself over a chair as though he had not a care in the world. “The only person who can become Raven’s contractor is Vincent’s older brother by blood…though I will admit, that does look like a child! Terrible age to die, really…but Nightray will stake a claim.” He hummed. “Probably.”
“Barma won’t,” said another man’s voice, and Gilbert whipped around to see a young man with short, dirty blond hair entering with a teapot. “Lord Rufus has no need for the Raven chain, unlike Nightray, and he trusts that he’ll be able to gain any relevant information from the boy, no matter what family he’s sent to…Rainsworth, Nightray, or Vessalius.”
Everyone looked at the young man with the messy golden hair and green eyes—Vessalius coloration, Gilbert realized all of a sudden. The man was—could be—a Vessalius. The young man didn't seem to notice, intent on spinning his now-small scythe around and around his fingers, the blade occasionally cutting into his hands and making itself slick with blood, though the girl from the Abyss glared at everyone who looked.
“Reim,” said the girl at the table, “why is Vessalius involved with this? Despite the obvious.”
“Oh, I’m just visiting,” the Vessalius young man said absently, hypnotized by the sight of his own blood.
“You are fucking creepy as shit ,” sighed the silvery-haired man.
“Shove a cock in it, Break,” the Vessalius man shot back, and Gilbert’s eyes widened and his face flushed as Vincent, Gilbert’s maybe-brother, laughed.
“Apologize,” snapped the girl at the table. “You are our guest, you and Vincent Nightray both; it would serve you well to be polite.”
“My apologies, Lady Sharon, Break,” the Vessalius said immediately, pushing himself into a sitting position and bowing in their direction. The now-bloodied scythe was leaned against the side of the chair, and he folded his hands in his lap; Gilbert could see now that they were covered in thin, silvery scars where they weren’t dripping with blood, as though this were a common occurrence. The scowl of the girl at his side deepened, and she stalked over to the wall and opened a box, pulling out a box of bandages and salve and returning to kneel next to him and bandage his hand, which he blinked at as though he had not noticed his injuries. “Alice, what…?”
“Be more careful with yourself, stupid!” she snapped at him. “One of those days you’re really going to hurt yourself!”
“You’re right, Alice. I apologize to you, too.”
“Ugh!” said Alice, continuing her bandaging. “You aren’t really sorry. You’re just apologizing because Lady Sharon told you to!”
For a moment, the young man looked as lost as a child, eyes falling to rest on the now-bandaged scratches as Alice stalked off to put the rest of the bandages away. Then the moment passed and mirth returned to his face as he took up the scythe again and began carefully cleaning the blood off of it. Lady Sharon, Break, and Reim exchanged worried glances, though they were as gone as quickly as they appeared, shuttered behind noble politeness. Vincent Nightray, meanwhile, because he was a Nightray, merely looked amused, though there was a slight frown on the face of the girl beside him. It vanished, however, moments after Gilbert noticed it.
“So about a possible Vessalius interest,” Lady Sharon prompted.
“Of course there’s Vessalius interest,” Vincent said, smiling, “and I for one am very interested to see how this one plays out. But we came here for a different reason.”
“Ah, I assumed you were here for the boy as well,” Reim said. “If you aren’t…”
“We merely were having a difference of opinion over relations with the Cheshire Cat Chain,” Vincent Nightray said with a smirk, “when the boy appeared out of the Abyss, that’s all.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” added the Vessalius, “if I can speak for the Vessalius dukedom, which I wouldn’t be too sure about, seeing as the general population thinks I’m in a madhouse somewhere, the child can choose where he wants to go.” He paused. “It’s funny…” he mused, “he looks so familiar. Almost as though I’ve seen him before somewhere, though I can’t recall where…maybe he is related somehow to the Vessalius house. Maybe there is Vessalius business here.”
“You should be in a madhouse,” said Break. “You’re completely insane.”
“So says the Mad Hatter.”
“I should know.”
The Vessalius man laughed, bright and brittle. “You’re right,” he said. “You should.” He resumed spinning the scythe—now tiny—around his fingers, and Gilbert finally found his voice.
“What—what’s going on here?” he asked. “Who are you people?”
“Right!” said Lady Sharon, rising crisply. “Introductions. I am Lady Sharon Rainsworth, heir to the Rainsworth duchy, and this is my servant, Xerxes Break. This is Reim Lunettes, servant to the Barma duchy. This is Lord Vincent Nightray, and his valet Echo, and this is Lord Oz Vessalius and his valet Alice.”
Gilbert froze.
“What’s your name? You appeared out of the Abyss contracted to Raven several hours ago. It gave us all quite the fright.”
Valet…Alice…? But…but Gil was Oz’s valet. And furthermore, Oz was fifteen and perfectly sane, not a grown madman with a penchant for slicing his own hands up. It didn’t make any sense.
“I don’t understand,” Gilbert said tremulously.
“What, you don’t know your own name?” Vincent said. “Why, Oz! You and this child might have something in common at times!”
Oz laughed again. “Dear Vincent, I don’t think that’s what the child misunderstood. You’ve come out of the Abyss. Like the prison in children’s fairy stories. Congratulations! You escaped! Would that everyone were that lucky.” Gilbert’s master’s voice went hard and cold on that last sentence, and he pushed himself up to stand. “I’ll wait outside,” he said cooly, knuckles of his unbandaged hand white around his scythe, though blood was already welling up on the fingers and the hand and the wrists and dripping down the palm.
“I don’t understand ,” Gilbert said again piteously. “Young Master Oz is fifteen! It’s his birthday today! You aren’t him !”
The young man who bore Oz’s name went dangerously still. The only part of him that moved was his blood, trailing its way down his arm. He still did not seem to know that he had been injured at all.
“You are not,” he said softly, “Gilbert.”
“Mother fucking shit,” said Alice, Gil’s replacement, who had not gotten to putting the bandages away and was now striding back to her master’s side. She shot Gilbert a venomous glare as Oz strode, very nearly running, out of the gazebo, and trotted after him, slamming the door hard behind them.
Vincent Nightray started cackling with laughter.
“So that’s the Vessalius interest,” Reim said baldly. “Shall I contact Lady Ada and Duke Vessalius, then?”
“This meeting was to be kept secret from them both,” Lady Sharon said. “We can send word about Gilbert once Oz and Vincent have moved on. This,” she added swiftly, “really is trouble we don’t need! If Vessalius and Nightray clash over this—”
“Who says we’ll clash?” Vincent said, a small smile playing about his lips. “I find myself incredibly intimate with a Vessalius.”
“Yes, do brag about fucking the man who doesn’t know where he is half the time, why don’t you?!” Sharon snapped. “That isn’t classless at all! And you’ve already staked a claim for Nightray—”
“With two dukedoms as my witness.”
“And if that boy is that Gilbert, you know that Ada and Oscar will absolutely attempt to claim him, since by all accounts Oz was perfectly sane until the attack on his Coming of Age Ceremony, and I know that they believe it as that Gilbert’s death which first broke him,” Lady Sharon continued relentlessly as Gilbert stared in open-mouthed horror. “And since there’s no way Nightray won’t use every means necessary to get Raven’s contractor, yes, Nightray and Vessalius will clash, and they will clash hard. ”
“Oh dear,” said Vincent. “That sounds like quite the problem for you.”
“You wanted this, you sewer rat,” said Break.
Vincent smirked. “It really is too bad,” he said, “that no one bothered to make sure he thought that Gilbert could be rescued. It really is too bad that the son of Nightray was the only person who stayed by his side after he started getting shunned by society. Isn’t it, Break, Lady Sharon?”
Gilbert trembled. “I don’t understand ,” he choked out, the room swimming behind tears. “I want to go home. I want my master. I want my master!”
“You’ve been lost in the Abyss for ten years,” Break said sharply. “Your master has lost his mind, and is currently working with that sewer rat to do something horrible. Would you really accompany him in that?”
“Why, Break, you flatter me,” said Vincent Nightray. “You don’t even know what our plans are—who says they’re something horrible?”
“Because they’re your plans, sewer rat,” Break said simply.
“I would follow Young Master Oz anywhere!” Gilbert shouted. “But—Lord Nightray— what have you done to my master ?!”
“Merely provided a listening ear, and the occasional spot of advice,” Vincent Nightray said cheerfully. “The trick to it is not treating him like a human, you see.”
Gilbert glared at him, and actually, literally growled. The raven behind him fluttered its wings, and then black chains like the ones that had dragged Gilbert into the Abyss shot at Vincent Nightray, forcing him down to the ground.
Vincent’s valet—Echo—moved like lightning, and before Gilbert knew what was going on, there was a sharp knife at his neck.
“Release Lord Vincent,” she said coldly.
“He’s done something to my master,” Gilbert hissed back. “I don’t know who he is or why he’s claiming to be my brother, but I won’t allow anyone to hurt my master! Anyone! I don’t care who—be it a stranger, or someone in this room, or even Lord Oscar and Lady Ada—I’ll kill anyone who dares harm my master!”
The knife dug further into Gilbert’s neck. Vincent Nightray caught on fire. Someone lifted Gilbert bodily off the ground.
“Release your Chain, Raven’s contractor,” Oz said lightly.
Gilbert immediately did so, wriggling to try and catch a glimpse of his master’s face, but he didn’t quite manage it as he was lifted up and placed, ever so gently, up on his grown-up master’s shoulders.
“Vince, are you alright?”
“I’ve had worse,” Vincent Nightray replied, pushing himself up and popping his back loudly.
“B-Rabbit,” said the raven.
“Raven,” Oz replied. “Has your choosing of a Contractor after all these years meant that you reconsidered my request?”
“My choice of Contractor remains the same as it ever was, B-Rabbit,” replied the raven. “As I see does yours.”
“Suck my dick ,” said Alice.
Gilbert, unable to see his master’s face, looked around the room; Vincent Nightray looked unhappy, but Break and Lady Sharon both looked nearly paralyzed with shock, and Reim looked like he was going to be ill.
“...So Xai Vessalius’s ravings were right,” Break said softly. “He really did replace his stillborn son with a Chain.”
What?!
“My God,” Sharon whispered. “Alice isn’t the Chain. She’s the Contractor!”
The chaos that followed that statement was a sight to behold, though Gilbert was sobbing too hard at that point to behold it. By the time he was calm enough to look around, Alice was in a screaming match with Break, the raven was perched on Gilbert’s head, Echo was sitting calmly beside Oz on the couch, Vincent Nightray was laughing so hard he was in tears and draped across the floor, Sharon Rainsworth and the servant Reim were engaged in whispers near the wall, and Oz was watching all of this calmly, cradling Gilbert close to him and stroking his hair gently.
Gilbert clung tighter to Oz, sniffling, and wasn’t pushed away. The raven made a satisfied noise atop Gilbert’s head.
“How much of this did you plan, Raven?” Oz asked, his voice even and calm.
“Nothing,” said the raven. “It is not the duty of Chains to make plans for humans. You would do well to remember that, B-Rabbit. Despite your human masquerade, you have not done as good a job as you think of pretending to be one of them.”
“...I put on a show, most of the time,” Oz admitted softly, his hands carding through Gilbert’s hair. “I think they find it easier, thinking I’m just mad. I have a different face to show society, and Ada and Uncle Oscar, and a different one for Break and Lady Sharon. I can only really act as ‘myself’ with Alice and Vincent, and even then, I fear I’m losing parts of myself just as Echo does. I am, quite frankly, a danger to myself and others, as you can see with this body that Alyss made for me.” One of Oz’s hands left Gilbert for a moment, and the raven made a disapproving sound, and Oz returned his hand to stroking Gilbert’s hair.
“And yet you continue down your path.”
“What other choice do I have? If, hypothetically, I someday lost complete control and slaughtered my family, if I hurt Alice, if I hurt Gil… I’d never forgive myself.”
“I formed this contract with Gilbert to stop you.”
“What a great deal of effort when you could have simply spoken to Alice.”
The raven was silent for a moment. “Your Contractor,” it said slowly, “the girl who gave your very existence form, who you owe your entire personality to…”
“Some of that was Lacie, and a great deal of it is I’m certain due to a great deal of trauma.”
The raven continued on as though Oz hadn’t spoken. “You haven’t told her of your plan? B-Rabbit. I have been Glen’s Chain so long as Glen has existed.”
“Glen has been reborn. He’s currently a servant of the Nightray dukedom. Vince has been keeping track of him.”
“Kah!” said the raven. “Stop deflecting, you tiny, young thing. I have been Glen’s Chain so long as there has been a Glen. I watched you come into existence, B-Rabbit. You owe your entire self to that girl.”
“I know,” Oz said. “There are very few things I’ve ever done that weren’t for Alice’s sake.”
“Have you really deluded yourself into thinking erasing yourself from existence is for her sake?” scoffed the raven.
“Of course not,” Oz replied simply. “That one’s for Gilbert.”
Gilbert froze, pushing himself up. “Young Master, you’re what ?!” he wailed.
Oz’s hands gripped his shoulders and shoved him back down ruthlessly, as though he’d never spoken at all. The raven pecked him, hard, and Oz’s hands fell away from Gil as though they’d never been there at all. For a moment, Gilbert considered staying down, where his master clearly wanted him, but decided that preserving Oz’s life was far more important than remaining perfectly obedient and popped up again.
“Young Master,” he bawled, “Young Master, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall into the Abyss—” Better to say fallen than thrown, he didn’t want to hurt Oz by insulting his father— “I didn’t mean to miss—however long it was, and you growing up, and everything—I’m so sorry, please don’t kill yourself, Young Master Oz, please!”
Oz’s face crumpled like paper. “I am hardly what anyone would call young,” he said flatly. “I—remembered recently that I am over a hundred years old.”
“Young,” said the raven, “for a Chain.”
“No human would call me young,” Oz revised mildly. “And don’t worry, Gil, I’m not killing myself. I’m making it so that I never existed at all. You won’t even have to mourn me.” He smiled at Gilbert, then, though unlike his earlier smiles. He smiled like he was giving Gil a present.
“Young Master Oz! Please! Please, I like you existing! You’re the best part of my life, Young Master, so please…!”
This, at last, seemed to get through to Oz: his eyes widened in shock, lips parting somewhat, and he said softly, “Gil…”
Vincent Nightray stopped laughing abruptly. “We ought to go, Oz,” he called over, sitting up.
“Huh? Oh—don’t worry, Vincent,” Oz said. “My goals haven’t been changed. Have yours?”
A smirk spread over Vincent Nightray’s face. “Oh, dear. It seems dear, sweet Gil has given me a reason to double-cross you, now.”
Oz set Gilbert down on the couch, though Gilbert scrambled to grab him again. “Well,” Oz said simply, flowing out of the way as though he’d never been there at all, “may the best man win.”
“You’re both trying to erase your own existences,” the raven croaked in horror.
“No,” Oz said. “I am trying to erase mine and keep Vince’s, and Vincent is trying to erase his and keep mine. We’re merely working together to achieve our opposite goals until we absolutely have to be at odds. It’s more efficient that way, don’t you think?”
Gilbert swiveled his neck to stare at Vincent Nightray, the man who had claimed to be his brother. If he wanted to preserve his master’s life—then—maybe he wasn’t as evil as all the other Nightrays after all. Gilbert had misjudged him. He wasn’t a horrible man taking advantage of Gil’s master’s weakness—he was trying to save him.
A good person!
“L-Lord Vincent Nightray,” Gilbert begged, “please don’t let anything happen to my master! Please!”
“Why, Gil,” said Vincent Nightray sweetly, “for you I would do anything.”
“Hey!” Alice bellowed, stomping over. “Seaweed Head! Protecting Oz is my job! He’s mine, not yours and not the Vessalius’s and definitely not Vincent’s! Okay?!”
“Why, Oz, isn’t your valet just adorable?” Vincent asked lightly.
For just a moment, Oz shot Vincent a sharp, almost reproving look, before his expression smoothed out and he said, “I’m lucky to have Alice in my life.”
Gilbert’s eyes widened in horror. Alice as Oz’s valet?! He barely knew her, but the girl seemed rash and loud and greedy, and…she’d done a good job bandaging those cuts he’d gotten from the scythe, but that was all. She wasn’t good enough to replace Gilbert! And yet…and yet…
Gilbert needed Oz. He needed his master—he needed to be important to him. Why had he been replaced? Why wasn’t he good enough?
Was it Alice keeping his master from him? Was she the source of all the trouble Oz had had to bear in Gilbert’s absence.
“You are lucky to have me,” said Alice smugly, but before Gilbert could actually try to kill her, she added, “But I sure as hell am not anybody’s servant.”
Oz patted her head approvingly, and the murder receded slightly from Gilbert’s heart. Oz hadn’t replaced him. He was still his master. Everything would be okay.
“What, you’re leaving without giving us any proper answers?” Break scoffed.
“And how is that any different than usual?” Oz replied. “In fact, I’d say you actually got a couple of answers this time, courtesy of Raven.”
“We still don’t know your goals, Lord Oz,” said Lady Sharon.
“Nor we yours.”
“Their goals,” said the raven from his perch on Gilbert’s shoulder, “amount basically to a glorified suicide pact, and each appears to be planning on betraying the other at the end—not to preserve his own life but rather the life of his partner.”
Alice went very, very still. “You…you’re what ,” she said softly—the first soft thing she’d said since Gilbert had first seen her.
“It’s for the best, Alice,” Oz said gently. “For both you and Gil.”
“For the best my sweet motherfucking ass!” she cried. “I don’t give a damn if Vincent dies, he’s always been a cruel little bitch—”
“It’s my finest quality,” said the cruel little bitch in question.
“But I will not allow you to get hurt or killed again! I won’t!” She glared at Oz, eyes watering. “I—I—go to Alyss, in the depths of the Abyss, right fucking now, and tell her everything, every single thing you’re planning—I’ll summon you back later.”
“Bye, Gil,” Oz said, ruffling Gilbert’s hair a final time before there was a rip in the world, a dark heaviness in the air, and then he was gone.
“So he truly is a Chain,” said the Lady Sharon.
“If you two were planning a suicide pact,” said Reim, “why haven’t you just done it already?”
Vincent sighed, sounding incredibly put-upon as Gilbert looked around frantically for Oz. He couldn’t be in the Abyss. He just couldn’t be. Right? “It isn’t suicide, we’re merely making it so that neither of us were ever born at all,” he said. “And, technically, I only want myself destroyed while Oz only wants him self destroyed. We aren’t animals.”
Alice glared, sucking her teeth in as though to do something crude, but instead whirled on Echo, who was still seated like a doll on the couch. “Echo!” she demanded. “You’re friends with Oz! What do you say about this?”
Echo looked at Vincent. “Permission to speak Echo’s mind?” she asked, monotonous.
Vincent flapped his hand. “Speak.”
“Echo thinks Lord Vincent ought to kill himself faster, and to release Echo into Oz’s service, and to entirely leave Oz and Alice and Echo out of this.”
Break whistled. “Damn, sewer rat,” he said, “does absolutely everyone hate you?”
“Not quite everyone,” said Vincent calmly, “but Alice did just send my good friend to the very depths of the Abyss, so I doubt there’s anyone in this room who likes me.”
Alice spat at him. Vincent easily sidestepped it, though the girl’s fury was not so easily contained. “First Jack!” she shouted. “Then whatshisface—his human father! Then you! Does everyone want to use Oz for their own ends?!”
“I only want to serve Young Master Oz,” Gilbert said.
Alice rounded on him. “Serve—like take care of him? Make sure he isn’t hurt, he’s healthy, he’s safe?”
Gilbert nodded.
“I claim him for the Baskervilles!” Alice shouted.
“You’re a Baskerville?! ”
“Do you have the authority to speak for their whole group?”
“Yes!” Alice shouted. “Glen was my uncle! Before he died! And besides that the new leader is—a friend of a friend! So! Fuck all of you! I’m taking him—and fuck you especially, clowny bastard and Vincent!”
Alice grabbed Gilbert’s arm and started pulling him along with her; he went willingly, too shell-shocked by what had happened that afternoon to protest. He continued going willingly until he was riding behind Alice on a horse, at which point he asked, “When will we see my master again?”
“When he’s out of time-out,” Alice huffed, “and when I’m sure he won’t try to—to—”
She burst into tears, then, loudly and suddenly, and nearly fell off the horse, though Gilbert gripped her and held her upright.
“Oz has to be okay,” she whispered eventually, sniffling. “He has to. He and Alyss are all I—they’re all I have !”
“My master is strong,” Gilbert said. “We—we can help him. Take care of him. He’ll be okay.”
He had to be. Gilbert couldn’t live with anything else.