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Essex Estate
Essex England
December 31 1917
The Essex Estate is one of the finest stately homes in the county if not of the whole country.
Its gothic architecture towers over the countryside. First built in the late fifteenth century. It housed generations of Essexes until Nathanel’s grandfather had it rebuilt to the grandeur it is now. A testament of Victorian architecture at its finest.
Inside the ballroom with its vaulted ceiling, with finely carved wood moulding, the finest Italian marble flooring. Among the impeccable decor people dance. Ringing in the new year with the finest of french champagne. Unaware that far below them, beneath the cellar, lies the long forgotten dungeon. Now turned into a prison laboratory, reminiscent of Victor Frankenstin himself.
It is hell for those forced to dwell in it.
The littlest victims sleep too tired to celebrate. In the solitude of the cells.
Covered with what the adults, if you could call them that could scrap together.
It's freezing in the darkness, sitting back against the stone wall. She blows then rubs her hands together in a feeble attempt to keep warm. Not that it would work, because it never really did.
Recalling how back home the nuns would often lock her in the cellar.
La Deámone Blanche
Lilith aux yeux deámone
Were the names they would call her instead of her given name of Melusine Marie Villeneuve.
A cough breaks the silence..
The days spent here blended together seamlessly into a blur. It was hard to tell what day it was or time of year. If not for the tolling of the bells.
“Gordon” she calls to the dark, before getting up. Tightening her shawl she crossed the room. Sitting beside the figure laying in the dark. Gordon sits up “Tis nothing” Melusine placed her hand on his forehead “ Just the damn dank of this place.” he reiterated trying to sound cheerful. Melusine removed her hand “Well no fever.”
“Told you.” Gordon Fitzwillam Dare turned towards the young woman beside him. His friend and fellow prisoner with a smile. “Wonder if Lucifer and his sycophants are having a party.” Neither one of them dares call the monsters who hold them here by their given
names. The names ranged from Lucifer and various euphemisms for demons or the devil. Too much more colorful fare that belonged on the battlefield.
“Probably.” “I mean who wouldn’t, with a home so fine as this.” Melusine replied in french. Her English was terrible.
“Well it’s probably not as fine as the ones at my manor, tis finer I tell you.” Remembering the fine parties at his castle home, near the highland coast. And the artmage estate which was in yorkshire.
Born Gordon Fitzwilliam Dare to an Earl and An American Heiress. His companion to a maid and a drunk arrogant austrian aristocrat.
When his powers came his parents made him hide who he was, what he was. When the war came he joined his brother Hugh as Sir Steele and Silver Squire. With freedom’s five he fought countless monsters and german artillery. Which is how he met his companion who sits beside him now. He was badly injured during a mission. Transferred to a french military hospital under an assumed name, she was one of his nurses, if not his favorite. The girl with the fascinating red eyes, long auburn hair and mischievous devil may care smile.
He knows that his brother must be sick with worry. But what of the others? Crimson? Farnsworth? Phantom?
Do they know or wonder what became of the boy overly eager for war?
So caught up in his reverie he didn’t realize he was shivering, till he notices Melusine rummaging around.
Melusine ever light, in her step, so as not to disturb Gordon in his little reverie. God the man hated to be disturbed. Her eyes scanned the darkness looking for anything such as a rock or disregarded piece of equipment.
Nothing
Merde.
She was shivering just as much as Gordon though she wouldn’t want to admit it
Stubborn as she is. And she is willful, the nuns always told her so. Besides insinuating that she was the devil's child.
Before she could remember her, her mother left her with the Bon Secours, outside Fleury, France. Because who wants a daemoness child. When her powers first started manifesting at age twelve. The sisters out of fear would frequently beat her then lock her in the cellar.
She was thirteen when her so-called aunt Irene showed up, with her blue lover Raven. The one good thing they did was help her to learn to control her powers. Though in her own mind the spirits of the dead helped more than Irene ever did. Because Irene always treated her like the brother's mistake she was. If she ever had her own baby she’d never treat them the way she was treated.
There are no windows in this hellhole, only stone and steel.
The only light is from the out of reach lamps that the devil provides. She continues searching the ground. She thinks of her friend Madeline Baptiste in America and the wonderful parties she described in a place she called the french quarter. Mattie said that New Orleans came alive during the new year. People danced in the streets and in homes finer than the eyes have ever seen. Food such as chocolate, roast pork, oysters, lobster and even lamb, more than anyone could eat. The finest champagne toasted in handblown glass. The thought of food sent her stomach growling. God she’d give anything for half warmed porridge or whatever glop would be served in the hospital. The devil would rarely give them food, when he wasn’t experimenting on them. She figures that is what is making Gordon so sick, especially the most recent one.
“Rations” Melusine turned around.
“What”
“Rations, I’d fucking take half congeled rations now.”
“Slimy, slippery or don’t want to know.”
“All”
Deciding to give up the search. She kneels in front of Gordon. Merde, he was cold.
“Here” she says finally as she charges her hands over Gordons. Her body radiates heat. He marvels at the pink glow.
“Better”
“Little”
She could do far worse such as blow a zeppelin to bits with just a look. Or charge a hairstick to blow away a rifle. But the devil has technology that suppresses both their powers. And ways to keep them here.
Forever
His prisoners
His guinea pigs.
They’d tried to escape a couple of times only to be met with beatings and worse.
But the only reason they didn’t try anymore was the children.
Little ones ranging from infants to twelve. Too young to know the horrors of this monster. They needed protecting.
“Wonder if the stupid guard is drunk” Gordon finally said
“Probably” “He usually is by now.”
“He looks like a fucking fat frog” Melusine smirked
“I’d say more like a fat bloated hog.” One of the ways they entertained themselves was to compare the guards to animals or fictional characters.
“Hog frog.” They both laughed in the silence. The little ones would enjoy that.
This thought brings them to what they call the wall, where they quietly etch the names of those who didn’t make it from the devils experiments.
It’s the tolling of the bells that catches their attention.
Gordon begins, with Melusine following
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
They sing for a new year, a new dawn…. A hope of something better.