Chapter Thirteen

No Mercy

The moon blessed him. Its light fed him and made him hungrier, its presence gave him strength and stripped him to his real core, as if it made him come to life, as if it showed his true self. He grinned, sparing a few seconds to gaze at it, his eternal companion. Victor never felt so alive, so powerful, as he did during the night. After all, it had been his home.

A dark cloud partially hid the moon from his sight, but the added darkness didn’t scare him – it soothed him. He took a deep breath, enjoying the cold air entering his body. A rush of excitement ran through him. He could barely wait.

The streets were mostly silent, St. Agnes’s usual fog already descending upon the city. It was the perfect setting for disgrace.

It was the perfect night for murder.

He was standing in front of a tall, stoned and cold building – a respectable and noble house of old, though there was nothing noble about the man who lived inside. Victor grinned wider. He couldn’t wait to deliver the deserved and right judgment.

Against the wall of the strong house, there was someone waiting, covered in darkness. She was waiting for him and he could see the grin that also spread across her face, the same wicked smile on her lips, made visible only because she stood next to the only lit room of the cold house.

She didn’t fear the night. Like him, she thrived in the shadows. It made her look more alive and real than anything else.

Slowly, Ethel approached her brother, her walk so casual that no one would ever guess what they were about to do, her expression deliciously predatory.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice lit by malice and the same twisted excitement he felt.

“I survived for this moment. I could not be more ready.”

***

Selina finished her song and opened her eyes, letting her arms fall next to her, gently holding the violin. The moon’s glowing light travelled through the open window and softly caressed her skin, wrapping itself around her and making her look ethereal, almost like it was attracted to her.

Lenora gazed at the beauty in front of her, she shifted in her chair and looked out the window, marveling at her dark and sleepy gardens. She sighed, before breaking the silence.

“Beatrice…” Her voice was weak and frail, like she was extremely tired, sick or on the verge of tears. “Is Sir McGrath in the house?”

Selina’s eyes widened in surprise for a second – it was the second time Lenora asked about her brother and she still had no idea why.

She felt sad that she had to answer her though, as if she was afraid of disappointing Lenora, like she knew it would make her unhappy. “I don’t think so, my Lady.”

“Oh.” Lenora sighed and Selina could identify the sadness. “That’s a shame…” She returned her eyes to the scenery outside and Selina couldn’t help but notice how much older her mistress appeared. “I like knowing he’s around.” After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Lenora asked, without taking her eyes from the window, “Play some more, dear, if you please.”

Selina nodded and put the violin into place again, getting ready to play another beautiful song. She wanted nothing more than to heal her through music.

Maybe this time she wouldn’t fail.

***

Victor felt taller and more powerful than ever. There was no better feeling in the world. It was like he had finally awakened from a deep and old slumber, like the fire inside him had finally re-ignited, like he finally belonged in his body.

It was like he was born to do this. He never felt more like himself. He never felt more alive.

This was what he was meant to do. This was why he had survived all the odds that played so fiercely against him since he first set foot in the dark, cold streets of the world. The world who had worked so hard against him, who had attacked him without mercy – that world made him strong. And he was back now, taller than ever, to spread his fire, to spread justice and redemption, to inflict the ultimate punishment to those who deserved it.

He was born to do this.

He stood with his head held high, holding a gun in his hand, his arm resting mockingly at the side of his torso. He had a smirk of dark pleasure on his face, even if the man cowardly flinching on the couch in front of him caused him nothing but disgust - deep disgust and hatred. This man wouldn’t wield honor or courage, not even in his last moments. He truly deserved his fate.

He knew his beloved sister watched him, wearing a smile of perverted satisfaction and amusement even larger than his. She exchanged glances between him and the old man as she slowly walked around the couch, like a hawk playing with its victim, taunting her prey – and deeply enjoying every second of the man’s terror. It was like she fed on his fear, like his panic was the most delicious feast she could have, like she needed it to be truly alive.

Victor gazed at the pitiful excuse of a man in front of him with utter loathing. The man all of St. Agnes regarded as one of pride and respect, a man of such power, a symbol of greatness, dedication, bravery, justice and honor. How Victor despised it, the way everyone was so blind, so wrong. How he wished he could show St. Agnes their beloved Judge now, how he desired for them to see how much of a liar, how low and pathetic he really was.

Reuben Musgrave looked at Victor and Ethel in fear and desperation, his eyes wide with terror and stealing quick glances of the gun in Victor’s hand. His breath was shallow and irregular and he had drops of sweat falling from his almost bald head into his beard and large chest.

Disgusting.

Although a man of many flaws, it was a given that Reuben Musgrave was a very intelligent man. He knew what was coming. Victor could tell – Musgrave knew he was going to die. He could probably see it clear in Victor’s face - that he was about to pay for his crimes. That knowledge and seeing his terrified expression, seeing how Musgrave knew he would die at his hands… It gave him peace. It gave him satisfaction and pleasure.

The only reason why he wouldn’t just shoot the man and rid him of his own misery right at that second was because Victor wanted him to know exactly who was about to finish him, he wanted Musgrave to know why. And also, he wanted him to fear, to suffer, to feel such extreme agony, that he would beg for him to kill him once and for all – he wanted the man to suffer the most grueling wait of his existence. He wanted torture.

Victor finally decided to break the silence, “Do you know who I am?”

The man nodded, trembling like a frightened child.

Pathetic.

Victor’s twisted smirk widened. “You do?”

“I knew you would come… I always wondered… I always feared… It always haunted me.” Victor hid his surprise at Musgrave’s answer, for the man actually seemed to be composing himself as he spoke, like he was coming to peace with it. He gazed at the gun again, but when he returned his eyes to Victor, he seemed calmer – still scared, still frightened – but calmer. He stopped trembling and he looked at Victor with a little touch of confidence. “You are the von Mallesch children.”

Victor smiled again. “Good. That should save us some time.” He lifted his arm, the one holding the gun, pointed it straight to Reuben’s face and reveled in the sheer horror his face revealed. “We can go straight to the killing.” His smile widened again, making him look like he was on the brink of madness.

Ethel clapped her hands and laughed, enjoying the psychological torture Victor was inflicting. “Do it, little brother, do it! Kill him!” In a way, she was scarier than him – and by the look Reuben was giving her, Victor knew the man agreed.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Victor pulled back the revolver’s hammer and expertly pointed it at the man. “Any last minute confessions?”

“No! No, please!” Musgrave’s fear was turning into despair. He held his shaking hand in front of his face, as if it could somehow shield him from the upcoming bullet. “I didn’t want to do it! I didn’t mean any harm! Please, I’m not a bad person.”

Victor laughed. “Didn’t mean any harm? Not a bad person?” When his eyes found Musgrave’s again, there wasn’t a hint of amusement in them though. He only expressed controlled hatred and anger. “I beg to differ. My father died because of you, you corrupted piece of trash. You destroyed our family. You knew he was innocent!”

Musgrave fell beneath all that hatred, his eyes meeting the floor, in an attitude of submission and shame. “I… I did. I did and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” He seemed to be on the verge of tears, which quite disgusted Victor. He looked at Ethel for a second and identified, in her own expression, that she felt quite the same. Musgrave was now in tears, seemingly attempting to hold himself together. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he repeated, his hands on his face. “I could never forget it… I could never forgive myself. If I could do it all over again-“

“You can’t!” Victor interrupted, “You put an innocent man in jail to rot and left him there to die.” His anger dissolved into coldness. “Now, it’s time to pay.” He straightened his arm again.

“No, please!” Musgrave’s hands flew from his face and he looked straight at Victor, eyes widened with fear. “I didn’t want to do it! They made me! He made me! I had… problems. Problems with women and gambling… I was so ashamed… They wanted to tell everyone! They wanted to throw all my hard work, all my life into the trash! He threatened me! He said he’d tell everyone! Please… try to understand… My career would’ve ended… My life would’ve been over!”

Victor smirked. “You only postponed the inevitable, foolish man. Your life is over now.”

“No! Please!” Reuben fell to the ground, down on his knees, his hands clapped together like in prayer, quite literally pleading for his life. “Please, don’t!”

“You should’ve lived with the consequences of your actions.” Victor was coldness personified. He eyed Musgrave as if he was nothing more than dirt on his shoes. “You should’ve risen above the blackmail. You should’ve been the beacon of justice and righteousness this city reckons you to be.”

“I know, I know… I’m so sorry…”

“But do not worry.” Victor’s smile was teasing and terrifying. “I will bring justice back into your life. Oh, sorry… into your death.”

Ethel laughed and Musgrave visibly shuddered at the sound.

“Please… I’ve always tortured myself. It always haunted me. I always felt remorse.”

“And yet, you did nothing about it. That only makes it worse.”

“I will tell the truth!” Musgrave’s eyes shone with hope. “I’ll tell everyone! I’ll tell the whole city William was innocent!”

“It’s too late now. You don’t seriously believe I care what these people think, do you? So long as they get their deserved punishment, and trust me, they all will, I don’t care about St. Agnes.”

“I’ll tell everyone!” Musgrave repeated, as if hoping that Victor wasn’t understanding, as if he wanted to make it clear, “I will receive right punishment. I’ll be thrown in jail for life!”

“Nothing you can do will bring my father back.”

“My death will not bring him back, either,” he desperately tried to reason.

“No, it won’t.” Victor looked down and Musgrave allowed himself to feel relief for a few blissful seconds. That feeling though, was quickly shattered by Victor’s returning grin. “But it will make me feel so much better.”

Musgrave’s heart sank. Ethel laughed again, completely entertained. “Indeed, it will.”

Victor’s grin remained and he looked at Musgrave as if he was missing something, as if he was somehow making the man a favor. “Just embrace the redemption I’m offering. Repent and accept your final judgment.”

“Not my fault, not my will…” The Judge’s eyes fell to the floor again. “I begged them not to make me do it. They forced me…”

“If you were even worth half of what this city expects of you, you would’ve never been so coward, so greedy as to accept Amos Skeffington’s money and corruption.”

Musgrave’s eyes returned to Victor in a second. “Amos… What-“

“I advise you to pray to your God now,” Ethel interrupted, resting against the back of the couch, “If you even have the hypocrisy to serve one.”

“No! You’re wrong!” He turned to Ethel. “You don’t understand! I never-“

“Received money? Accepted corruption?” Victor asked, sounding angrier and more menacing than ever, “Don’t lie to me, filthy old man. I know everything!”

Musgrave turned to stare at Victor again. “I… I did, but-“

“Then you couldn’t have been that remorseful about it, could you?” Victor smiled, almost like the situation was funny.

“You… You don’t understand-“

“I understand that you are the lowest of the low in this cursed city.”

“And that’s saying quite a lot.” Ethel nodded like they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

“Indeed, dear sister.”

“You’re wrong! You’re wrong and you’re mad!”

“Not as mad as you, my foolish friend, for ever thinking you could get away with murdering a von Mallesch,” Victor talked to Musgrave as if they were indeed acquaintances discussing an amusing topic at the bar.

The Judge was running out of hope, all he could do was keep begging, “Please, please don’t…”

Victor seemed to be running out of patience. “Die like a man, since you never acted like one in life.”

“Please! Please…” He brought his hands to his face again and curled himself into a desperate position, his elbows on the floor.

“Oh, just take him out of his misery, brother, he’s turning into a pathetic mess.” Ethel waved her hand with impatience, as if she was asking her brother to do a simple, ordinary task.

“As you wish, dear sister.”

“No! No, wait!” Musgrave looked at him again. “I can tell you everything! Everything I know! Everything about the plan and everyone involved! Everything about-“

“I know everything already, thank you very much,” Victor replied, looking bored.

“You don’t, you really don’t-“

“Don’t you dare-”

“Forgive me! Please, please have mercy-“

“You didn’t have any for my father,” Victor answered, completely untouched by the man’s pleas and looking more determined than ever. He straightened his arm again and pointed his gun to the Reuben’s head.

“Please, please, I’m begging you-“

The next sound was loud and mechanic. It brought silence into the room. Victor never flinched. His arm remained stretched, until he finally let it descend and rest, the murder weapon still held with confidence in his hand.

In front of him lay Reuben Musgrave’s lifeless body. Victor couldn’t look away from it. It was fallen at an odd angle, his head was disfigured and his eyes still gazed at Victor in an eternal look of terror. Blood was falling into the carpet, creating a dark red spot that kept growing. Splattered blood covered the couch and floor, even a little of Victor’s shoes and pants. The sight and scent of death conquered the room.

It didn’t bother him. None of it.

Victor had always wondered how it would feel to finally kill the culprits of his family’s demise. He feared he might regret it, that it may haunt him.

It wouldn’t, for his strongest emotion was relief. He felt twisted pleasure, as if he was truly meant to do it, like he was just fulfilling his mission, like he was just answering his calling. He couldn’t smile though. He eyed Musgrave’s empty eyes and felt accused. He felt different, as if a part of him had also died alongside the corrupt Judge and another, new side of him had been born at the same moment - like a part of him had been finally released and set free. He would never admit it, but part of him also felt shock and surprise, as if he never actually trusted himself to do it.

It was done.

And he didn’t regret it.

“Messy…” Ethel broke the silence, a small smile still lingering on her features. She walked slowly towards her brother, her arms crossed against her chest, her eyes never leaving Musgrave’s bloody corpse. She didn’t look surprised, shocked or even shaken. She didn’t look fazed in the slightest manner, she was completely untouched – as if she was used to the sight of a dead man, like she saw murder every day.

Victor couldn’t help but wonder - what kind of person had Ethel really turned into?

Then again, what kind of person had he turned into?

She reached him and finally tore her eyes away from the dead Judge, smiling and looking proud. “But fun.” And she meant it. She seemed deeply amused.

Ethel rested her hand on his shoulder and he recognized her loving stare, the way she looked at him when they were children. “You really did survive for this.” Her smile was gentle and sweet.

He returned his eyes to Musgrave’s dead ones. He finally smiled, even if it was just a little. But it was a smile of self-discovery, of understanding and of self-realization.

“I really did.”

Those words were the absolute truth now.

And he never felt so alive.

He was born to do this.