Black Angus – Chapter 4

This is a working draft and not a final product.

Content Warnings:
Clothing/Gender Identity Mismatching, Misandry, Infidelity, Public Harrassment, Stalking, Murder, Eating People, The Usual Blood and Gore, Cunnilingus, Suicidal Imagery, Hanging, Emotional Abuse, Narcissistic Abuse

In which Angus gets drinks with the girls.

At sunset the following evening, Angus found a parcel bound in twine on top of the two-door dresser beside where he’d slept, containing his new documents. The subtle gesture of love, so individually spoken in Esther’s esoteric way, delivered a thin pang of regret through Angus’s chest for how he had acted. He couldn’t hold her to blame for what she had said last night. Angus had never told Esther all that had happened between him and Friedolf. He’d never told anyone. And if Friedolf had ever recanted his side, it would have been inconceivable for him to recognize which details truly mattered. Surely, if he understood what he had done was wrong, it would have never happened —unless Angus was still making excuses for him.

The two women had already risen. Esther was leaned over, grabbing a jar of washing soda from the lower kitchen cabinets. Surprisingly, Edwina had lingering behind. Her petticoat and floral, pink skirts spilled down the front of the loveseat where she sat sideways, oscillating a dense brush of peach blush into her brown cheeks.

“What do you even think the point of living is? You act as if one night will shave years off your life.”

Esther held the washing soda in both hands like a present, “I’m sorry, love. I have work to do to-night.”

“Let them wait then!” Edwina rolled her head back over her shoulders, catching her bergère hat from falling off her head as she did so, “Your clients have all the time in the world. I bet you could go at least half a year without corresponding and they wouldn’t even notice. —Oh Angus! Goodnight to you.”

Angus flourished a friendly wave to Edwina then leaned on his side to recline against the arm of the loveseat next to her.

“I’ve decided, Esther,” he airily announced, tilting his chin up to project into the adjoined room, “that you are completely right about me needing to meet people. I plan to take your advice as soon as possible.”

Esther stood straight, fluttering her eyelashes as if doing so could subdue her budding smile, “Of course I’m right.”

Angus glanced down his shoulder to shift attention to Edwina, “Big plans for to-night?”

“You’re coming hunting with me,” Edwina answered, tilting her head to add, “So is Esther.”

Esther raised her eyebrows at Angus, ignoring the latter statement, “Not looking like that, he’s not. Exactly how long have you been wearing those clothes, Angus?”

He plucked at the loose jade shirt, “This? Ah . . . five days? The rest . . . Erm . . . I . . .”

Esther stepped through the threshold, placing the jar on her desk, “I’ve heard enough. Off with it. All. Now.”

Angus stuttered some disoriented noises but complied, pulling the shirt up from his waist. Esther pinched his sleeve.

“Agh, yer as sharp as marble, my boy. Not here. Follow me. Into the room. I think Georgette was about your size . . .”

She pushed Angus towards the hall, Edwina rising from her seat and trailing behind. Esther pushed deep into their wardrobe with Edwina bobbing over her shoulder as Angus disrobed to his smallclothes.

“I saved most of what that gentleman from last night wore for you, but I need to wash stains out of them, so that won’t do now. We ought to try to find someone else your stature to-night . . . —Try these,” said Esther. She cradled a small armful of her previous lover’s clothes, which she placed on the corner of her bed, giving a gentle tap, then lifted her hand to wave at his middle section. “Those too. Did Dolf never teach you to change your underthings? I swear.”

Angus fished a pair of lacy undershorts from the pile. Sighing, but lacking the will to talk back, he quickly stripped naked then pulled the garment over his hips. Edwina stepped away from their wardrobe, gripping a flared, aubergine jacket cut from Lyons velvet. Angus readied himself to object, but Edwina ran up to Esther instead, pressing either sleeve to her shoulders.

“Look what I found. You absolutely must wear it to-night,” she gushed, leaving Esther wordless.

To Angus’s surprise, the item appeared like it would suit Esther. He wouldn’t have expected Edwina to show such restraint in dressing her companion, but he felt pleasantly proved incorrect. Edwina tugged Esther’s arms down as she sat her on their bed, proceeding to remove Esther’s current top layer, then pulling her find over Esther’s blouse in its stead. Reaching into her skirts, Edwina produced a rouge balm. She smudged color onto Esther’s lips, then gave her cheek an affectionate pat. Esther blinked several times, stunned.

“There. Lovely.” Edwina smiled, took Esther’s chin, and gave her a chaste kiss. “Now we just need to fix that hair.”

Angus glanced several times down at his chest, then up at the standing mirror, trying to fill in the invisible gaps with what visuals he could gather. He was pretty sure that the neckline of Georgette’s abandoned navy blouse plunged too deep —where one’s bosom was meant to fill; the extra fabric all the more accentuated by the way it pulled in at his waist. The riding leggings Esther had found fitted tightly around his legs, and predictably left too much room around his hips. This worked to his benefit, however, as it made the trousers sit lower than they were meant to, leaving him much appreciated room around the crotch. His silhouette did not look overtly feminine, despite what the girls had to offer him, but it was still a far more androgynous ensemble than he had ever dared before.

Edwina caught him fussing and stood right up, purring as she took his arms, “Oh Angus, you look just like a poet or a drawing out of a romantic book. I just knew we’d find you something.”

“I can’t go out like this. I’ll get my ass beaten.”

“Of course you can. The girls are going to love you. —You do know how to talk to women, don’t you?”

“Not really. I don’t really do it like you do. The flirting, I mean. I just attack people when they’re alone,” Angus answered awkwardly.

Subconsciously arranging the loose, mouse-brown hairs around her face, Esther released a puff of air, “Typical male behavior. I don’t even really see the point of male vampires. Who has ever looked at a human man and thought to themselves, ‘Oh I want that thing preserved forever.’ The only ones who seem to think that creating male vampires is a grand idea are other male vampires.”

Angus ignored her.

“It’s starting to get colder out, so I’ll have to cover up anyhow.” He pulled a heavy, wool raincoat out from the far edge of their wardrobe. “Whose is this?”

“Mine, but you should take it. I don’t go out enough to keep it around and it takes up far too much space.” Esther pulled a box out from under her bed, removing a petite hat the exact match to the jacket Edwina had found and pinned it at an angle over her re-tightened bun. Edwina watched with a pout as Angus pulled the coat over his shoulders, the slim silhouette from before disappearing underneath.

“All set?” she asked, drawing Esther and Angus in either arm, “I’m thinking just two ought to do. —I’m watching my figure. We can make a game of it. Whoever’s last to find a mark is on graveyard duty.” She lowered her chin, smiling dangerously.

As she escorted them out to the street, Angus’s thoughts drifted to certain nights Friedolf had made Angus drag their refuse away to be disposed. Friedolf had human thralls plenty capable of the chore, but he was the Sire. Afterward, Angus would be so filthy he’d be forced to wash up. Though it was hardly ever addressed, everyone knew Angus had issues with hygiene. He hated bathing and would avoid it until there was no other choice. It made enough sense to Angus, yet he couldn’t help feeling a touch humiliated when Friedolf used to assign these dirty tasks to him. Food, shelter, security, countless luxuries on top of it all; Friedolf had given him everything, more than Angus could ever repay. The trusting face of the mutt from last night flickered through his mind. He looked to Esther, held in Edwina’s other arm. She looked burdened by her thoughts as well.

“You look nice, Esther,” he commented. Then, looking to Edwina, he added, “You did a good job.”

Edwina sighed. “She could become such an alluring vixen, if only she tried.”

“So I could draw attention to myself? Be dragged into miserable conversations?” Esther creased her eyes.

The three traversed further from residential structures; shops and businesses appearing more frequently as they drew closer to the town’s center. Crickets tittered in unlit corners and the stink of stagnant water rose from puddles which formed along the stone path. But there was also the smoky smell of cooking meat, fermenting barrels of ale, and the occasional suffocating floral fog of a passing lady saturated with perfume.

Gryllcrosse boasted a formidable modernity about itself. Fresh water from the river was routed along every major road in the style of Vitulen innovation, so few civilians had to rely on wells. Greenery was well outmatched by domineering shades of gray, so that it served as more of an embellishment than what the average person might imagine when envisioning an typical town in Ériusíde. Its roads were pathed with smooth, flat stones which wore harshly on equine feet. And the people in Gryllcrosse all dressed according to the apex of fashion, importing clothes from Freedmonter and Tedeschy, sewn from fabrics from Jinguóren and Boreastica. In fact, no shade of skin nor shape of eye or nose inspired any curiosity from a conventional Ériush person in Gryllcrosse; the diaspora was most expected here.

Edwina stopped short, turning her neck this way and that to assess the area.

“My usual spot is just down that way . . . ,” she thought out loud, pointing to a street that turned to the right at the end of the block, “So let’s continue this way to The Devil’s Plaything instead. There I’ll be less likely to run into any of my friends and get distracted from the two of you.” She gave each of their arms a squeeze, then turned their group left down the road to a softly lit lounge surrounded by short, tiny white flower clusters with feather-like leaves. Angus plucked one of the yarrow specimens, twirling it between his thumb and index.

“Here’s some less offensive witchcraft for you, Eddie. Growing this helps keep away vermin and insects, even cats and dogs. It can be used as an abortive, and it can treat wounds by reducing blood flow.”

“What use do I have for any of that?” Edwina scoffed. She pulled open the door. Sweet, warm tobacco smoke curled out into the cool night air.

Angus tossed the sprig to the side, “My point exactly. It’s to be avoided.”

The three stepped through the heavy, walnut door, to the candlelit interior. Edwina confidently beelined for the bar, while Esther and Angus, less in their element, scouted for seats where they could observe their surroundings in repose. Alcohol was a peculiar pleasure —certainly not blood, but hardly food either. The sugars hurt Angus’s stomach if he consumed too much or if the drink was clouded too heavily with impurities. But otherwise, the preservative qualities of the substance reacted favorably with the suspended undeath of his flesh.

Surveying the other patrons, there were few women present for Angus to exercise his conversation skills on, as Edwina had requested of him. The five strangers who were among the fairer sex were all accompanied by men, except for one Teregchin sell-sword occupying a seat at the bar, and one of the two bartenders. Angus did not have near the sort of confidence necessary to approach a person drinking alone, and it was common knowledge that targeting drink-servers was a quick way to get caught, as they had many eyes on them and their vanishing would go easily noticed. Also, he was in no rush to abandon Esther.

Propping his jaw up by two fingers and his thumb as he rested his elbow on the high table where they sat, Angus plotted their options to Esther, “Looks like our best chance, if we want to keep our hands free of dirt, is a two-pronged approach. We pose as one couple, and strike a conversation with another.”

Esther looked properly miserable, “I told you, I’d rather not get caught up in some banal discussion.”

“Just stand next to me so I don’t look like a langer then. —Or we can nick someone off a lonely street, though I thought the whole point of this outing was so I could try things your way.”

Esther released a long sigh, craning her neck to watch Edwina catch up on gossip with the man behind the bar, a forlorn look drifting over her face. She pressed her palms into the table as she pushed herself up from her seat, “Alright.”

Angus assessed the three pairs to choose from. There was a middle-aged couple who’d likely be flattered by the unexpected attention and easier to subdue physically if things got messy. Another couple looked much like father and daughter, though it was clear from the way they were touching each other that they were not —at least, Angus hoped not. And lastly, a modestly handsome young pair sitting at the farthest table exchanging tense words, like they were at the edge of spilling into an argument.

“They look entertaining,” Angus purred.

“Really? Them? Not the fat old pair dying to prove that they’ve ‘still got it in them’?”

“I dunno, there’s this benevolent aura about them that I don’t want to ruin just because of my appetite. C’mon, I’ve got a feeling these two are a couple of black-hearted bastards.” He took her hand and walked her over to the table in the corner.

The young man roused slightly as they approached, his eyes flitting about the dimly lit space, “Good Evening —Do we know you . . . ?”

“I doubt so. I’m new in town and my fiancée is a regular homebody. I had to beg her to show me around. I’m Emit,” he offered his hand, which the other gentleman hesitantly accepted, “and this is Angela.” Angus gestured to Esther, who was playing her part as meek shut-in perfectly as she shielded herself half-way behind him. She gave them a curt nod, keeping her hands at her sides.

“Tom,” the man grimaced in response, “my friend here is Margarie.” The woman’s shock went unfiltered as she gaped at her date.

Angus chuckled, reaching for the lower part of his face, “You seem to have offended your companion, Tom. Were you meant to have called her your girlfriend?”

Tom gagged on the words that he was failing to articulate. Margarie spoke up in his stead, “He shouldn’t be talking to you at all. I’m sorry, but we are having a private conversation. We’d like for you to go.”

The walnut door swung open in the distance. Two male sell-swords entered and promptly joined the solo woman at the bar. At the same time, Edwina was finishing up her conversation, navigating her way over to Angus and Esther with three tiny glasses of fuisce in hand. Before Angus could bow out to prevent a scene, Edwina wove right behind her friends, bubbly with joy.

“Angus, do you know that rough lady back at the bar? I noticed she kept glancing over at you.” He leaned back to take a glimpse at the three sell-swords. They were indeed all looking his way, though they turned away when they saw him looking back. Edwina handed out the glasses, then noticed the couple at the table, “Tom! What a pleasure to run into you! Is this your wife?”

Margarie looked up and down at Edwina, overcome with abhorrence; taking in her lacy skirts, rose-tinted cheeks, and ample cleavage. She snapped her neck back to her companion, “Tom, how exactly do you know this whore?”

The man finally forsook his unease, speaking back boldly, “Listen to me. You’ve been making promises to me for the past half-year now that you’ll leave your husband. It’s none of your damn business how I choose to sew my wild oats.” Naturally, he was met with a loud slap to the face.

Margarie stepped down from her stool, “We are leaving. Right now!” She grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him outside.

Esther hung back, speechless, as Angus, smirking, stroked his chin, “Adulterers . . . Selfish pricks. —Oh Edwina, can we? Please?”

Edwina downed her fuisce in one swig, “That bitch called me a whore.” She glared into Angus’s face, her eyes ablaze. With fangs bared, she hissed, “We’re doing things your way to-night.”

Esther stepped between the two, placing her nurturing hand firmly on the girl’s forearm. “Sit with us a few minutes while we finish our drink, child,” she spoke in a low, calm register, “Don’t make it obvious —to the patrons or your victims. Let them have a slight head start, then we’ll come for them.”

Edwina rolled her jaw impatiently but nodded without further word. She sat at the abandoned table with a huff. Esther joined her. Angus leaned his elbow against the surface, nursing a tiny sip as he once more glanced over at the three mercenaries. Again, they were looking at him, much more boldly this time.

One of the men barked a hoarse, “Rrr-RUFF!!” at him, causing all three of them to burst into laughter. Angus raised his eyebrows in confusion, sheepishly turning away. The women didn’t seem to notice. Edwina’s eyes fixated on an imaginary spot in the wall in front of her. She wasn’t smiling, a rarity for her.

Esther turned to Angus, “You see why I dislike intermingling with them so? Less than one out of a thousand I’d imagine are worth knowing. They’re as good to this world as rats —and make better meals than them too.”

“I’ve thought long on it,” Angus mulled, “but I’ve come to the conclusion that being dull is a fair fate for a life, perhaps one of the better outcomes even. It’s the mongrels of this world that concern me. That’s what I prefer hunting. Given the choice, I’d rather leave the unextraordinary masses to their peaceful bliss.”

Esther narrowed her eyes, “So you spared the older couple because you believed them harmless?”

“It was an assumption, nothing more. They could be terrible. I guessed it was less likely than those other two.” He paused, then traced back in their conversation, “I don’t imagine you would have thought that the man who I had briefly been would have been worth knowing either. I, too, used to live a peaceful and dull life. I’ve experienced many things since then, so it appears I am worth knowing to you now.”

“I never said Dolf made wise choices when it came to picking his children.” Her eyes trailed slowly down and back up his person with appraisal. Angus’s pulchritude stuck out like a leucistic crow among the standard, black feathered, though he seemed completely unwise of it, himself. “I have my theories about what he saw in you,” she scrutinized, “Though I concede, you are a person of minor value now. You didn’t know witchcraft when you were warm-blooded, now you do. You’ve become . . . something. You may even survive this lifestyle for a measure of time.”

They finished their glasses in tepid silence.

The three made a quiet exit. Outside, misty rain had begun to fall, soft as down and slickening any suggestible surface. Angus found a shadow obscured corner at the back of a nearby building. With ease, he scaled the flat exterior to the rooftop, from where he could see the couple, still arguing, traveling west. He pointed the way to Edwina, who hooked Esther’s arm at once. Angus descended, hanging a few yards behind them once he was back on street level. Within minutes, their brisk walking had narrowed the distance down to a block’s length.

Tom and Margarie stopped at a corner below a street lamp. As she spoke, Margarie’s arms waved emphatically at Tom, whose whole body was turned away from her, staring into the distance from over his shoulder. Finally, Tom threw up his hands and marched away from her mid-rant. Margarie stomped her foot then turned the corner without pursuing him.

“We’ve got the lady, Angus, you go after her paramour,” Esther instructed. Angus nodded.

Weaving through the dim spots in-between lanterns, Angus advanced closer to the man. It was early enough that other pedestrians still ambled along the stone pathway, so he did not bother to feather his steps, but it made acting without attracting witnesses something of a riddle, and the area was steadily turning more residential. The concerns Angus held were soon verified as he watched Tom pull a key from his pocket, drawing closer to the doorway of a street-side townhouse. Sucking in his lip a bit, Angus decided to make a desperate gamble before his victim could disappear into the safety of his home. Tom had just inserted the key into the door’s lock when Angus started to sprint toward him, splashing shallow puddles underfoot.

“You there! Sir! Tom was it?” Angus shouted, waving his arm. The man paused and looked at him. “There’s been an accident! I need your help!”

Tom blinked rapidly, “Accident? What do you mean?”

Angus made a show of planting his hands on his knees as if he had winded himself in pursuit. “The woman you were with. She was struck by a carriage. The bastards rode off without stopping.”

Tom turned his key back, re-securing the door’s lock and placing the item back into his pocket, “Good Gods, will you take me to her?”

Angus jogged to the spot where he’d last seen the others, then around the corner where Margarie had turned. A small park with a painted white gazebo sat a block away to the right. Angus lingered, catching the familiar, metallic scent of spirit coming from the same direction.

Tom caught up, and Angus pointed, “We’ll cut through that park to get there faster.” He ran ahead.

Tom darted after him. Neglected foliage burst out, obscuring the man’s sight. Angus was now no longer visible, lost in the unlit overgrowth. Further off from the vine-shrouded entrance gates, however, Tom detected brushes of movement, silhouetted by the night. He trekked forward through the lengthy grass, until he was close enough to see the two women from The Devil’s Plaything, obscured by shrubs at the far wall of the park. They were bent over on their hands and knees with their backs to him. He took a step back. Edwina rose, sensually arching her back inward. Her lips and chin dripped with thick, black fluid, and her eyes absorbed what scant light the area provided as a pair of pale, red, glowing orbs. Esther lifted her head next, her pale mouth dressed the same way, but her eyes more closely resembling the golden color of warm moonlight. An unnatural pile was mounted below them.

Tom knew he should turn back, but he was frozen in place, unable to look away from the unearthly scene before him. Seeming to be unaware of his presence, the women’s necks lulled to the side, gazing only at one another, and nothing else. Edwina stretched out her stained hands to grasp Esther’s face, kissing her hungrily; the ladies lapping uncontrollably at each other’s faces with their tongues. Pinning Esther on her back on top of the unsettling mound, Edwina brushed the woman’s skirts out of the way. Kneeling before her, she unhooked Esther’s stockings from their garters to access Esther’s underthings, which Edwina hiked over the knees, leaving Esther’s delicate ankles and pointed shoes to fluttering, raised high in the air. Edwina bit through Esther’s stockings into her meaty, exposed thigh. She sucked for a brief moment, then tilted her head to nip at Esther’s naked buttock; humming an airy, satisfied sigh.

The voyeuristic display was lost on Tom though. While Edwina had been maneuvering the limbs of the woman before her, Tom had glimpsed the extra limbs tangled beneath the two —Margarie’s legs, wearing Margarie’s stockings and shoes, stained with dirt, grass, and blood. Edwina descended to ravenously kiss Esther’s vulva, her lover’s bloody hands splayed across the fishbone braids on her scalp.

Tom attempted another careful step backward, but his ankle caught on something startlingly sharp. Stumbling backward, warmth spilled down his heel, the pain baring itself deeper. Slow to react in changing his position, Tom’s mind had not moved on from the strategy of discretion yet, causing him to reflexively muddle his yelp as Angus’s fangs hooked around the tendon in his heel. His rump and palms landed sharply in the damp, overgrown grass. He attempted another scream -a real one this time- but Angus, who was crouched low on his knees, already had his hands around Tom’s neck.

Tom’s scuffed hand miraculously touched a sizable stone with the tip of his fingers. He grasped the stone and swung as hard as he could, thwacking Angus on the jaw and sending him far enough sideways for Tom to crawl a few paces free. Angus growled hatefully, and sprung right back down on him, tearing deep into the man’s neck. His miserable jaw ached, but Angus drank until all pain disappeared; until Angus felt nothing. He dragged a dirt-crumbed hand across his runny nose, then grasped Tom’s body around the back to lift him upwards.

Swinging the body around in the other direction to drag it forward, Angus offered, “I’ve had plenty if you ladies are still thirsty.”

Esther worked away taking what was left of Margarie, underthings still wrapped around her knees, but Edwina approached at the offer. “Oh, my sweet, spineless Tom. What have you gotten yourself into?” She tenderly wrapped her arms around the corpse’s waist, holding it upright pressed between her and Angus. She slipped her fangs into the low crook of his neck on the still unharmed side to sip at his warmth. Unable to deny himself blood at such proximity any longer, Angus resumed feeding, biting the tough, corded area below the ear. Angus’s and Edwina’s soft breaths brushed against each other, as the two fed with a hypnotic focus. Angus detached himself first, tilting his head back to catch up on his swallows, his lips and nose sticky and dripping. Then, Edwina lifted her pointed nose, pressing her blood-coated tongue into his mouth so that he could taste the remains of her drink and she could taste his. Their tongues swirled together softly, lost in the elation that came from that momentary quiet of hunger.

Esther, unbothered by the neophytes’ activity, toed Margarie’s body with the tip of her shoe, “It’s too risky to take them to the usual place. This spot looks untouched though. With the cold weather drawing in, it might take a couple of days for mortals to find the bodies. We’ll stage a lover’s suicide. They’ll blame the extra marks on squirrels and rats, hopefully.”

Angus helped Esther break the victims’ necks, tie the ropes, and hoist the couple onto a hearty tree branch. Edwina, meanwhile, gathered wildflowers from the park, arranging them into a sentimental circle below their feet. As a final touch, Esther pulled a notebook and pencil from her pocket, tore a page loose, and wrote a short but melodramatic note; which she curled and tucked into the bosom of Margarie’s dress above the girl’s heart. The three used the green water of a birdbath —no doubt replenished only by rain, to rinse their hands and faces. Edwina’s pale, floral dress would reveal to any passerby that she’d had an interesting night, but the other two’s dark clothes obscured telling stains. Angus handed over the raincoat so Edwina might cover up what she could, then they made their way back to Esther’s house.

As her entryway came closer into view, Esther strained her neck forward, noticing that something was off. “I told Thad not to come by to-day. And . . . he would never have left mail outside my door either way.” She held up her skirts to clop ahead of the other two.

Latched beneath the peephole was an envelope pressed from thick creamy parchment. Esther took the note and turned it over. Her address was written on the front in large script, and it was sealed on the back with red wax stamped with the profile of a wolf’s head. She held the envelope in her hand, studying it as if she could extract its contents without breaking the seal. Her two companions caught up to her, eager to go back inside.

Edwina pulled the wool raincoat tight across her soiled dress. “Could we possibly take this inside, Esther? I’d much like to change.”

Esther pulled out her key and undid the door for them. Edwina hung her bergère hat by the door and disappeared into the hall, already undoing the laces at the small of her back. Angus lingered in the unlit vestibule near the door, an uncertain feeling balling at the base of his throat. Esther walked straight past him to her desk, pulling her padded black leather chair back as if she meant to sit but remained standing behind it, her gaze unbroken from the letter in her hand.

“What have you got there?” Angus asked, in casual tone all too transparently manufactured.

Esther flicked her eyes at him, her front teeth softly resting on her bottom lip, “I think this is for me. By all accounts, I have no reason to think otherwise, but—.” With an intent slash, she split the seal with her letter knife. Esther pulled a lone page from the envelope, unfolded it, then twice as swiftly reassembled the letter, tucking the page back where it came from. She held her arm all the way out in Angus’s direction, gesturing to hand the letter to him. Her eyes did not meet his.

“It’s for you,” she murmured, wincing as she did so.

Angus loitered in the darkness of the vestibule, celadon tapetum flickering as his weight shifted from one leg to the other, but making no move to advance as a heavy silence sank over the open area. Angus licked his lips, then as if he had shown no hesitation before, calmly crossed the room to Esther’s desk at the center to receive the letter. He moved the flap of the envelope up and down, joining the halves of the scarlet wolf’s head into one and caressing the slick wax with his index finger.

“Do you wish to be left alone?” Esther asked.

Angus shook his head. “No—,” his voice cracked, “that won’t be necessary.” He unfolded the contents of the letter:

There was no signature. It was not necessary.

Angus read the last sentence and continued staring into the paper in his hands. He gazed into the minute fibers of the parchment. How they twisted like maggots or parasites. The flawless, ink script -surpassed only by Esther’s masterful hand- swirled before him until he only saw mangled, black shapes. Angus felt nothing. He felt less than nothing, like a dark pit that swallowed all feeling.

“Esther, I’m afraid that,” he recited politely, “I must cut my visit here short. I’ll be leaving first thing at sunset to-morrow.”