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Before the child was even given a name, it was taught how to kill. Of course it was: it was the spawn of the Baskerville clan’s Ill Omen and the human who had been rejected by the Abyss; it was born of contradictions and born with the power to fray the seams of the world and decay that which had no seams readily available. The first person to discover this power was its mother; trapped like an animal in a tower of the Vessalius family’s estate; when it was a toddler, she caught birds and squirrels and every other animal stupid enough to near the tower and had it kill them for her pleasure. It was a sweet child, and it wanted to please her; unlike the Ill Omen, who had been stolen away from the Baskervilles the night before she was to be sacrificed to the Abyss, it knew nothing other than the single room of the tower, and the two people who would enter it: its mother, the Ill Omen, who filled her time with escape attempts in the hopes of forcing Glen Baskerville to finally go through with sacrificing her, and its father, the human who had stolen her away and been rejected by the Abyss for his blasphemy.
Each animal the child was to kill was given a name before its mother had it destroy them. This name was the same every time, and it was the first word the child learned to speak: Jack. On occasion, the child was made to play with the animals first, allowed to grow attached to them, and only then made to kill them; its mother smiled to see it cry over their deaths but tear off their heads and limbs anyway when she told it to. The Baskervilles would not look kindly upon any spawn of an Ill Omen—this was why her former friend had ensured that she would produce one—but it had its uses regardless. For one, she could use it to kill that human who had betrayed the Baskervilles and stolen her away; for two, if it was a useful enough executioner, Glen might choose to keep it alive instead of sending it to the Abyss with its mother.
She did not doubt that she would make it out with the child. From the time she had been taken in by the Baskervilles with her brother, she had been denied nothing; when their friend claimed that he could not let her die and used her brother to betray the Baskervilles and steal her away, she had seen it as a minor inconvenience, nothing more. She would escape soon enough. She would win her freedom and then her death, thus cementing her brother in the tradition of every Glen Baskerville who came before him and ensuring that he would never forget her as long as he lived. And most importantly of all—she would be neatly out of the way before it came out that she and Levi had artificially inseminated the Abyss. They had gone to great and ridiculous lengths to acquire the embryo and get it into the Abyss in the first place: they created false identities to access a fertility clinic run by the Rainsworth family; once a viable embryo had been created, they had faked their own deaths and then rubbed the place; Levi had set the manor on fire to distract from Lacie bringing it to the Core of the Abyss as a possible friend; Lacie had given the embryo to the Core, returned to the manor, and distracted her brother from the house fire Levi had set by setting their friend’s hair on fire in front of him. That effort would all come to naught if the child who had grown from the embryo made its presence known before Lacie could escape from the consequences of her actions. It was petty and foolish, but she didn’t want her brother to be disappointed in her. They both knew their place; she should not have gone along with Levi’s crazy plan, and even the fact that Levi was Glen Baskerville at the time would not stop her from incurring her brother’s disappointment.
This child was different from that one. The only person Glen Baskerville could hate for this child’s existence was their former friend; as long as Lacie could make sure it proved its usefulness, she could count on her brother to at least consider sparing its life. After all, it was a sweet child. It wanted to please her terribly. She was certain that Glen would be as charmed by it as she was, and horrified that it had no name—he would give it a name as a common courtesy, and then grow attached, and then decide to spare it without her having to degrade herself so far as to ask. It was a perfect plan—or would have been, were it not for two factors: first, the child in the Abyss who had become two children as the embryo grew and split, and second, that her former friend, Jack Vessalius, had always been far craftier than Lacie had ever given him credit for.
When the child was six, it no longer cried when its mother made it kill animals. It could not speak well, because Lacie rarely spoke to it and Jack never acknowledged it at all, but it understood when it was spoken to; it could summon a scythe like the grim reaper of legend, and though it could not cut a path from their world to the Abyss, it could cut through stone like a sharp knife through satin paper. It was getting inconveniently large, too: it could no longer hide behind her legs when Jack came to visit, and hiding under or behind furniture made it too obvious that she was trying to keep Jack from ever noticing it. Worst of all, it was too attached to her: though Lacie had liked how attached the child was to her in the past, now it was a source of anxiety. If it got too old, it would miss her when she died, just like Glen would; if it was upset at her death, it might resent Glen, might not be happy as his executioner. For the first time, Lacie began to actually worry about the timing of her escape—
So better to stop planning it. Better not to worry. Better to take what she wanted in the time she was used to taking it—that was to say, now—and face the consequences later. They would escape today, in the bright light of noon, and kill anyone who stood between them and the Door to the Abyss hidden in the depths of this manor, wrenched away from the Baskervilles some time after Lacie herself had been stolen.
It really was stupid of Jack to imprison her in one of the manors she had grown up in as the ward of Glen Baskerville; it was stupid of him to keep her caged so close to her precious Abyss. She had not seriously tried that manner of escape before, unsure of whether or not the child could survive a trip through it, but that was no matter now. It was clearly something other than human; just like Lacie, it would thrive there. She crossed the tower room and took the child by the shoulders; she brushed her thumb over the crest of the Baskerville clan she had carved on its chest the day it was born and kissed the top of its head and said, “It’s time to go, little rabbit.”
It blinked up at her, its red eyes confused and guileless in a way Lacie’s own had never been. It did not know where they were going, it did not know why its mother had deigned to be affectionate towards it when it had done nothing to earn her favor, it did not know what she wanted or how to respond.
“You are going to carve our way out of here,” Lacie told it. “Jack has restrained my powers, but he knows nothing of yours, so until we reach the Abyss it will be your job to protect me.”
This was a lie, of course. Even without the powers of the Abyss, Lacie was confident that she could take on an army and win, but it was best if the child believed that it needed to stay as close to her as possible. After all, it was tiny and sweet, and though she had taught it to kill animals, she had never had the chance to have it kill a human before—and it was so little it might get lost, out in the rest of the manor, out in the rest of the world. It had this in common with Oswald: that it was naive enough to wander off into danger given the slightest amount of slack in its reins, and that the best way to protect it was to let it believe it was protecting you.
“We are going to go down to the deepest part of the manor, and we are going to kill anyone who tries to stop us, or who even notices us,” Lacie continued. “If we see that man Jack, we will kill him too, as painfully as possible. Once we reach the Door to the Abyss at the bottom of the manor, I will open it, and we will take a walk through the Abyss until we reach another door. Once we do, we will walk through it, and then meet with Lord Glen Baskerville, who will provide us with our new home. Do you understand, little rabbit?”
It didn’t understand, it couldn’t possibly, but it still nodded; satisfied that it would do as she told it to, Lacie kissed the top of its head and stood.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s go.”
The child was like an obedient doll, worse even than Oswald had been at the time he was meant to become Glen. It sliced through the human occupants of the Vessalius manor as if preparing vegetables for supper, and though its tears carved tracks through the blood on its face it made no sound of protest and did not question her or rebel at all. This obedience was a terrible quality for any human being to have—but if the child were to survive, it couldn’t be a human being. It would have to be a doll, a weapon, a mere extension of Glen Baskerville’s will. Lacie refused to allow herself to get irritated with its obedience. It was doing as she ordered, after all, and doing an excellent job of it. It was true that the child did not revel in the massacre as Lacie would have in its shoes, but it still got the job done; it wasn’t until they reached the Door to the Abyss that there was any trouble.
The hall leading to the Door was just as Lacie had remembered it, austere and empty, with darkness collecting in the corners; as she and the child entered, their bloody footsteps echoed around them, underscoring the silence of the room. Now that they were alone, the child dismissed its scythe and clung tightly to Lacie’s hand; she allowed this as they finally reached the Door and she pressed her free hand against it.
It didn’t open.
Gryphon, it’s me, she hissed in her mind, drawing on her long-suppressed powers as an Ill Omened Baskerville. It took far too much effort to even cast her thoughts into the Abyss—if Jack didn’t suspect her escape before, he certainly did now. There was no time to lose. Gryphon! You remember me. Glen Baskerville’s sister, Glen Baskerville’s ward. I used to steal Levi’s dinners and give them to you when he annoyed me. Open up! Let me through!
There was no response, and Lacie felt something cold sink to the pit of her stomach. The child was small and warm next to her; when she glanced down at it, she could see that it was shivering, covered in blood, pressing as close to her as it could manage. It was truly a pitiful thing—and if she’d only damned it further—
Gryphon. Gryphon! Open your Door! Now!
There was a response this time, the slightest tinge of regret: Gryphon would open its door for her if it could, but something was blocking it—its Contractor wouldn’t allow it.
—Its Contractor wouldn’t allow it? How? Did her brother not want her back by his side? Why? He couldn’t possibly hate her now, could he? It was true that she had vanished right before he ascended to the position of Glen, robbing him of the human sacrifice he needed, but that wasn’t her fault. Glen knew it wasn’t her fault! Jack had tricked him too, had taken advantage of his kindness to steal her away—
I shall be lonely…if you disappear…
…if you disappear…
… if …
No. That was impossible. Jack and Nii-sama couldn’t have been in on it together all along. They couldn’t have both betrayed the Baskervilles!
Lacie gave up on reasoning with Gryphon and began brute-forcing the Door. This was harder, it took more of her power, but it was their only option at this point. The child was so small, but it was already too big to successfully hide from Jack. Glen was supposed to be their sanctuary, but he had ordered Gryphon to bar the Door. She pushed harder, rage and fear and betrayal swirling in her chest; as the Door finally began to move ever so slowly, another pair of unfamiliar footsteps entered the room.
“You. Jack’s woman,” said a man’s voice behind her. “What are you trying to do?”
Lacie turned. One of Jack’s brothers was standing there, a tall blond man with a cold and hostile expression. She bared her teeth in a furious grin.
“What does it look like, human?” she said. “I’m rescuing my child from him.”
“You call that thing a child?” said Jack’s brother. “You really must be insane.”
“Maybe I am, but it is my child regardless.” She pushed it a little further behind her. “Isn’t it just adorable?”
“Of course not,” said Jack’s brother. “I have a son about that age, and he is adorable. That thing you call a child is just a monster.”
“How rude of you!” said Lacie. “I, for one, think it’s cuter than any of your human children ever could be. Look at its long black ears, look at the shape of its pupils, look at its sharp shiny teeth, look at its furry little snout! Surely you can’t believe that a little angel like this one deserves to be locked up in a tower forever.”
“I think,” said Jack’s brother, “that it deserves to die.”
“I would suggest you watch your tone,” she said coldly. “My child has very big ears; it can hear your voice far better than I would like it to. It doesn’t deserve to hear such things said about it.”
“I suppose then it’s lucky for you that it won’t hear anything, ever again.” Jack’s brother held out his arm. “—Gryphon!”
The Chain materialized behind him; Lacie could feel its regret and guilt. This was its Contractor? How? Her brother had contracted with it when he was fourteen; he should be contracted with it still. Then how…
But this was the chance she had needed. With Gryphon out of the Abyss, the door was no longer shut as tightly; as the Chain shot towards her, she wrenched the door open just widely enough that a small rabbit could fit through, one the size of the toy she’d had as a child, perhaps. As the chill of the Abyss diffused through her, Lacie felt her power temporarily return; she took her child’s form and wrenched it into that of the doll it needed to be, throwing it backwards and past the doorframe as she took Gryphon on with everything she had. It was barely a contest. Chains were bound to the will of the Core of the Abyss, who was Lacie’s dear friend; none of them could survive hurting her, even if ordered to by their Contractors. She had cheerfully broken its wings and was making good work of its talons when Jack arrived; he was hardly worth her time or attention now, so instead she took one of the talons, pinned Jack’s brother down, and carved a gash across his face. This was too much for the man, who lost his concentration on his Chain; seizing its opportunity, Gryphon fled back through the Door to the Abyss, which— shit! —began to close behind it. Lacie pushed herself up, turned towards it, locked eyes with her child—
and felt a cold sword push itself through her ribs.
“Jack, always a pleasure,” she said, gritting her teeth and turning her face towards her former friend. “I thought you said you didn’t want me dead. I thought that was your whole entire stupid little reason for acting out like this.”
“Hi, Lacie!” Jack said. “Don’t worry, I’ve done my research! A little thing like this wouldn’t kill any of you, so just bear with the discomfort for now, okay?”
“Well, if you insist,” Lacie said, tasting the blood on her tongue. At least she’d gotten the child into the Abyss properly. It would be alright there; now that the Door had closed again, time would have swept it far away from here. Its red eyes had marked it as a future Ill Omen, but it had not yet awakened to the powers of the Baskervilles; it would not be able to cross time safely. It had gotten away.
“I do!” said Jack cheerily. “And, you know, I knew you’d do this today, right? Why did you think it was so easy for you to get down here?”
“Because I’ve dreamed of killing the people of this estate for years?”
“Nope! Because I already knew what you would do.” Jack began twisting the sword around in a circle; Lacie held out for as long as she could, but eventually too much blood got into her lungs and she had to cough it up, all over the ground. “Alice already told me, you see.”
“…Al…ice…?” Lacie repeated. She knew that name. She’d chosen it for the embryo she and Levi had impregnated the Abyss with. How in the hell did Jack know that—
No.
Oh, no.
“Your daughter, Alice! —One of your daughters, I mean. Did you know that you actually had twins? They’re both named Alice.”
“Of course they are,” Lacie said, rolling her eyes. “Nii-sama and Levi are both idiots.”
“That is true,” Jack agreed, continuing to rotate the sword. “Anyway, the Chain you just tossed into the Abyss—”
“It is not a Chain,” Lacie snapped.
“Well, it wasn’t then, but it is now. Anyway, it ended up with the girls, with one of the Alices specifically. And then I got the other Alice to tell me all about it, and convinced her to make it into a Chain. My Chain.”
No.
Terror shot through Lacie’s chest and dread pooled in her stomach, a pain far sharper than anything Jack’s stupid sword could have ever produced. She stared at him in naked horror, hating for the first time his blank smile, his empty eyes, each and everything that had ever made him Jack Vessalius. She had not hated him when he had tied her down and impregnated her; she had not hated him when he locked her in a stolen tower for years; she had not hated him when he stole her away from the Baskervilles to keep her alive, for whatever definition of ‘alive’ he believed in.
She hated him now.
“You didn’t,” she whispered.
Abyssal power began to gather behind Jack in the shape of a rabbit, a massive black rabbit. As she had with Gryphon, she could feel its fear and its shame and its deep well of self-loathing, and even before it materialized in the room she knew what it was.
What he was.
“Lacie,” Jack said, still smiling, “meet Oz, the Bloodstained Black Rabbit.”
Oz, the Bloodstained Black Rabbit, knew himself to be a monster; every moment of existence was hell, and he hated himself like Lacie had never felt any kind of hate before. His eyes that had stared up at her so trustingly only a few minutes before were terrified and guilty, and he shrunk away from her gaze like a condemned prisoner. Oz knew of only one release from his torment, and so as his thoughts bled into hers, it was the only one Lacie knew for him too: he had to die. He had to die, and quickly and painlessly; he had to die, so that he wouldn’t hurt others anymore (his wish), so that he wouldn’t be hurt anymore (Lacie’s wish).
She dug her fingernails into her skirt and swore to the both of them that she would fulfill these wishes as soon as physically possible.
“Jack,” she said calmly, “you’ve made your point. Put it away now.”
Jack smiled and did so; Lacie tried to find it in herself not to be relieved to no longer feel Oz’s pain.
“…How long?” she said quietly.
“Seven months, counting from the day I founded Pandora,” Jack said cheerily. “You don’t have to worry anymore, Lacie! That very same day, I used Oz to slaughter the Baskervilles. Nobody is going to try to kill you anymore, ever.”
“How strange to be hearing that from the man with a sword through my heart,” said Lacie.
“Well, it’s true.”
“I don’t care.” Lacie grabbed the bloodied end of the blade and pushed it backwards, through and out of her torso. “Nii-sama would never have made a deal with you; I assume he’s dead now? Or at least as dead as someone like him can be. And Levi’s a rat, he’d have fled that sinking ship the moment he suspected you of anything. I haven’t met either Alice and can’t say anything about either of them, and so…hm. I’ll return to that tower you put me in, of my own will this time, and we can talk when you’ve found a way for Oz to live as a human.”
Humans were easier to kill, after all; they were weak, breakable, useless things, as Jack had demonstrated so nicely. It would be far easier to kill Oz if he were human than if he were an active Chain, being used as a weapon whenever Jack pleased it.
“Whatever you want, Lacie!” said Jack, dropping the sword and kicking it away. “Shall I escort you back, then?”
“Do as you please,” Lacie said coldly, and took his hand; as they walked past Jack’s brother, though, leaning against the wall and trying to staunch the bleeding on his face, Lacie stopped short and looked at him. “One more thing, Jack.”
“Yes, Lacie?”
“Have Oz kill that man’s son, and make him watch,” she said. “That would be the best entertainment for me.”
Jack’s brother jolted, looking up at them in horror.
“Of course!” Jack said. “You know, that actually solves the problem of making Oz into a human, too.”
“Does it?” said Lacie disinterestedly. “How lucky for you.”
“It does.” Jack beamed. “After all, once my nephew is dead, we’ll need a replacement. Oz would fill in that role quite nicely, don’t you think?”
Lacie shrugged. “Do whatever you want with it,” she said. “That has nothing to do with me anymore.”