Chapter Eight

The Birth of Gabriel McGrath

“Who are you?” Victor kept his cold gaze, determined to hide his amazement and slight anger from this woman. For some reason, she recognized him and that was unacceptable. His mind was already racing for solutions, for if she had recognized him so easily, there was no way he could convince her otherwise.

There was only one thing to be done. He couldn’t let her, whoever she was, ruin everything.

He would have to kill her.

She looked a little shaken by his harsh question and unattached attitude, but she quickly regained composure and smiled, instead throwing him a question of her own, “Don’t you recognize me, Victor?”

He couldn’t let her keep saying his name outdoors, it was too dangerous. In a quick decision, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her inside the house with more strength than necessary. Her smile faded as she stumbled inside the room, Victor closing the door behind her.

The young woman looked around and, noticing the other people inside, smiled again. “Selina! Oh my, I can’t believe you’re here, too!” She stepped over the youngest woman and held her hands on her own in a caring, cheerful manner. Selina lightly smiled back, though she had a confused look on her features.

Victor though, thought it was too much. She recognized Selina, as well. This woman was way too big of a threat, she would have to be disposed of immediately. He still wanted to know who she was though, if only to make sure that their secret died with her.

“Who are you?” he repeated the question, louder than before, his tone and posture more aggressive.

She looked like she was about to answer, when something stole her attention. Little Joshua was pulling her dress, showing her Jacob and smiling timidly. The woman smiled wide, promptly getting to her knees to get to his level and cupping his cheeks with her hands. “Such adorable children!” She melted, caressing Alice’s hair as she spoke, though Alice didn’t seem as delighted as Joshua.“Who are they?”

Victor was losing his patience. “I will ask one more time and, I assure you, it will be the last,” he said it slowly and in a menacing voice, “who are you?”

The young lady quickly got up, faced Victor and smiled again, apparently not one bit scared or intimidated by his threatening demeanor, her hands resting on her hips and a playful tone to her voice. “I will never forgive you for this, Victor Gabriel. How dare you not recognize me?” Her behavior surely surprised him, he looked confused. “I would recognize any of you, anywhere.” She spread her arms with joy. “It’s me, Preshea!”

There were a few seconds of silence and inaction, until Selina finally reacted. “Preshea, oh dear Preshea!” She almost ran to her and both girls hugged tightly.

“Where have you been?” Preshea asked, letting go of Selina, “I was starting to believe I’d never see you again.”

“It’s… complicated,” Selina answered, her beautiful smile fading.

“Where is Ethel?” Preshea asked, looking around, as if expecting to see her hiding behind a piece of furniture, “Is she here with you?”

Victor nodded, visibly relieved by the knowledge of this young woman’s identity. His eyes were softer, his stance much calmer, a small smile even growing on his lips.

“You need to tell me everything that happened to you for the past ten years.”

He nodded again and gestured for her to follow him. “Come with me, dear Preshea. We have a lot to talk about.” He walked away from the living room.

Preshea did as asked, the same perpetual wide smile on her features, a happy stride to her step and a small blush on her tanned cheeks.

***

Ethel watched the whole scene from the top of the stairs. She didn’t make an effort to go down and meet Preshea, she was very much aware that anyone who looked at her would notice she had been crying. She was sure her hair was particularly messy, even if it naturally was every day, her eyes and cheeks were red and her make-up was certainly more blurred than usual.

“Are you sad?”

She mildly jumped at the sound of the little boy speaking to her. She hadn’t noticed him, or his sister, going up the stairs and standing right next to her. Joshua looked at her with concerned and pitiful eyes, clutching Jacob to him as usual. “Why are you sad, witch lady?”

For some reason, Joshua’s pity made her feel angry. Alice was wearing her usual cold stare, which also infuriated her. “Get away from me,” was her simple reply.

Ethel walked into her bedroom and, feeling exhausted and frustrated by her recent display of weakness, threw herself into her bed, fully intended on resting before completing the vast array of venoms she was supposed to create. When she opened her eyes again, Joshua was staring at her with those same compassionate eyes, at the side of her bed.

“Why are you sad?” he repeated the question.

Ethel sighed. “I hate you, that’s why. Get out of my room.” She closed her eyes again, so as to not see the slight expression of hurt crossing Joshua’s face.

The little boy insisted, though, “You cried. People cry when they’re sad. Did I make you cry?” At the lack of a response from the older woman, Joshua put his toy dog right next to her neck. “You can have Jacob, if you want. He always makes me feel better when I cry.”

Ethel’s anger was now rising. The boy’s kindness was driving her insane, she couldn’t stand it. She abruptly sat on the bed, caught the stuffed dog and aggressively threw it to the other end of the room, yelling once more, “Get out of my room, you freak!”

Joshua ran to catch his toy, while Alice yelled in return, “What is wrong with you? He was just trying to help!”

“I don’t need you, or your useless, so called,help,” Ethel firmly declared, getting up from her bed, “What I need is solitude and rest. I need to concentrate. Get out of my room!” She reached her window and, looking through it, added in a much calmer tone, “Go play or whatever it is children are supposed to do.”

“You don’t want us to clean anymore?” little Joshua asked.

“No. Do what you want, as long as it is away from me.”

For some reason, the boy seemed sad at her response. It would be expected he’d be grateful, she had just freed them for the day. However, it wasn’t Joshua’s reaction that surprised her the most, it was Alice’s.

“I don’t want to play.”

Ethel turned around and faced the young girl. “That’s nonsense. Every child wants to play.”

“I don’t,” the child answered in her usual distant manner, “I don’t like playing.”

At that moment, there was something about her that was comforting to Ethel, almost as if it was familiar behavior.

“I don’t care. Dosomething, as long as you do it outside of my room and away from my sight.” She fell against her pillows again, her hand flying to her forehead. “I have an awful headache.” She sighed, in a honestly tired tone. “Your presence both exhausts and disgusts me.”

Ethel hadn’t even finished her sentence and both Alice and Joshua were already sitting in her bed, right next to her. Joshua, though trembling and with a little more caution, put Jacob next to Ethel’s neck again and slowly laid down beside it. Alice remained sited, staring at the wall in front of the bed.

“Why are you here?” Ethel asked in an almost whisper, too emotionally fatigued to fight them any longer.

“Because you’re sad,” Joshua answered, playing with her hair without her noticing.

“I hate you,” she said, completely defeated, “I want to be left alone.”

This time, it was Alice who replied, emotionless, “You are a liar.”

***

Victor led Preshea through the mansion, out of the living room and into a corridor that seemed endless, leading to a vast display of doors. Preshea still remembered her way inside the house, she knew they were passing through the dining room, the study room, the bathrooms, the kitchen and the small corridor that led to the servants’ chambers. When she saw that particular door, the most magnificent one, she knew he was leading her to Sir William’s old office. Victor opened it, almost with reverence, and walked inside, gesturing for her to do the same.

The office looked impeccable, the cleanest, most cared for division in the whole house, for sure. Preshea had no doubts that Victor had seen to it himself. He walked around the office and touched everything as if it were sacred. It was exactly like Sir William had left it, a decade ago. Exactly like it would still look like, if he was alive.

Victor sat behind the beautiful wooden desk, behind it stood a tall window that gave them view of the once beautiful back garden. Preshea mimicked him and he smiled, that charming smile of his, making her slightly blush once again.

“Preshea Eudora Carwin…” he started, while absent mindedly playing with a pen, “Long time no see.” His smile turned somewhat devilish, though she wasn’t sure if he meant it. He returned his stare to her and turned slightly more serious. “How did you recognize me?” It was obvious the matter was of extreme importance to him.

She smiled sweetly. “Victor, we’ve been close friends since birth. How could Inotrecognize you?”

“Well…” he began, his smirk returning, “I didn’t recognizeyou.”

She didn’t feel the slightest bit insulted. “That’s because you are a terrible, awful person. Always have been,” she playfully answered.

Victor laughed. “You’re right.”

There were a few seconds of comfortable silence, as they both studied each other. Preshea was amazed at how different he looked and felt but, at the same time, how familiar he was to her, how much of the Victor she knew was still embodied in this one. His smile, his eyes, his presence… They were still the same.

“I always knew you’d come back,” she calmly said, looking at him with something close to adoration.

“You did?” He seemed somewhat amused.

“I know you, Victor. I knew you wouldn’t let your house, your name and your family die or lay forgotten.”

He lost the hint of delight he had and, in turn, returned to his icy stare, contemplating her for a while. Soon, Preshea began wondering if she had said something wrong but, before she could ask, he smiled again, a crooked, mischievous smile that had her sighing in relief.

“You’re quite right again, dear Preshea.” He then returned to playing with his pen. “So tell me, old friend, what have you been doing all these years? What has become of you?”

She shrugged. “Nothing of much interest.”

“It has been ten years.” His smile widened. “Certainly, something of interest must’ve happened during such a long time.”

“Well, I have become a teacher.”

“Wasn’t your dream to become a writer?”

Preshea shrugged again. “I write, whenever I find the time and inspiration, though it hasn’t been that easy.”

“You were always very much inspired before,” he recalled, “your mind was always filled with tales and imagination.”

“It was easier, as a child.”

“What about marriage?” he asked suddenly, making her blush slightly again, though he mustn’t have noticed, since he was staring at the ceiling, rocking his chair in a rather childish way. “If I remember correctly, it was also your dream, as a child, to find true love and get married.”

She stared at her hands and answered quietly, “I had a lot of dreams as a child.” She returned her gaze to him, her eyes alight, contrasting with the sad smile she now displayed. “Not many of them have turned into reality.”

He remained silent, observing her, and she continued, “I guess I should spend less time dreaming.” She laughed, joyless.

“No, don’t do that.” He smiled back. “It has always been one of my favorite traits of yours.” She blushed again and Victor, seemingly unaware of it, continued, “Who knows? It’s not too late for any of them to come true.”

She stared at the floor, incapable to look at him. “You’re right, maybe they will... now." She sighed and finally faced him. “Thank you, Victor.”

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even look at her as she spoke, he just remained intently concentrated on his pen. Preshea took a deep breath and decided to ask him the question that had been burning inside of her since she had entered the house. “What haveyoubeen doing all these years?” Victor immediately returned his gaze to her, his chin resting on his hand, seeming to be debating what answer to give.

“Well…” He grinned. “A lot of things. And most of them, I would certainly describe as interesting.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, gently smiling and Preshea grew impatient. It was like he was teasing her. “Come, Victor, tell me,” she pleaded. He remained silent and looking quite entertained, so she kept asking, “What has become ofyou?”

His smile disappeared, his stance changed to one of tension and his eyes grew colder. After a few seconds, he finally answered, without much emotion, “I have become… stronger.”

“What have you been doing?” she repeated, in a quiet manner.

“Surviving.”

***

“Where are you going?” Little Joshua ran to accompany the older woman. Ethel didn’t even look at the boy as she walked with energy. She felt revived, refreshed, back to her comfortable shell, decided to never again give in to black memories. She could be anything, but weakness was a trait she wouldn’t allow herself to possess. Not anymore, never again.

She stared at the dusty, slightly broken mirror in the hallway and put her veiled black hat on, smirking at her reflection. She held her head high, her back straight, and walked with her usual defiance and pride towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Joshua repeated, following her with childish excitement, “Can we come with you?”

“Obviously not,” she answered, her voice back to her usual confident, but rather rude, tone, “I’m going to the market and I am feeling exceptionally good spirited as of now. The last thing I need is a couple of rats following me around.”

“Can we come with you?” he asked again, with as much enthusiasm as before, as if he hadn’t even heard her.

“Obviously not,” she repeated, giving him a terrifying glare.

Ethel opened the door and, humming a song, she cheerfully stepped to the outside world. Before the door was closed though, Joshua was already following her, with a nervous Alice running after him, whispering a harsh, “Josh, come back here!”

***

“What happened after you were…” Preshea almost couldn’t say it, but ultimately, she decided she had no choice, “Sent to the orphanage?”

Once again, his expression turned to one of controlled anger and, though it didn’t scare her, it made her incredibly sad.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she quickly replied, “I was so heartbroken… I cried for weeks after you left,” she admitted.

Victor gifted her with a small smile, before regaining his serious composure. He spared a few seconds, during which he seemed to study the wall behind her, until finally, he made the decision to tell her.

“After my mother passed, there was no one left to care for us,” he began, as if in a strange trance, “there was no one who would take us, no one to keep us together-“

“My parents desperately wanted to!” Preshea interrupted with urgency, “When they heard of Lady Grace’s death… They told me, they would take you all in with no second thought. After all your parents did for us…” she seemed desperate to make him understand. “But… we didn’t have the means. My family is poor… We could barely feed ourselves-“

Victor raised his hand, prompting her to stop. Preshea complied and rested against her chair again, allowing him to continue. “We were taken to the orphanage, a place full of others like us. I remember our first night there. It was cold, the food was scarce and tasted poorly, the nuns had no time to care to all of our needs, they couldn’t possibly attend to all of us. Our mother had just perished… and we only had each other for consolation. I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t shake the memory of my mother’s dead body out of my mind. I remember Selina was frightened and had nightmares the whole night and Ethel… well, she was in a permanent state of shock, I believe. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she wouldn’t react to them, she wouldn’t move, she wouldn’t speak… It felt like she didn’t even notice them. She was paralyzed, sitting next to Selina’s shaking body, always looking straight ahead, not even blinking…”

Preshea stared at her old friend, tears threatening to fall from her own eyes. She didn’t dare interrupt him though.

“We stayed there for weeks, getting thinner and more depressed as time went by. Selina came to sickness and was quite weakened and frail, she was taken to the infirmary, where she remained for days. She never returned.”

“She was taken?”

Victor nodded with a bitter smile. “She was the first one to get adopted. It figures, even sick she was always beautiful and sweet and she was rather young.” Victor took a deep breath and continued, “Ethel and I were heartbroken, angry, revolted… They didn’t even let us say goodbye.” He sighed, as if the mere act of speaking was amazingly tiresome. “A few weeks after, I was adopted by another family. I didn’t want to go, I begged them to either leave me there or take Ethel with us. They ignored my requests and took me, anyway. Saying goodbye to my sister was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She was angrier than I’d ever seen her.” He chuckled, as if the memory had some kind of twisted humor.

“Were they good for you?” Preshea asked in a very quiet manner, “Were they good people?”

Victor shrugged. “I honestly can’t tell”, he smiled mischievously again.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t stay long enough to really come to know any of them.”

Preshea’s eyes widened. “How come?”

“I didn’t want to be with them. They seemed fairly nice, though… They lived in a nearby village and they already had two other adopted children.” He shrugged again. “Who knows? Maybe they were a perfectly loving family. But I didn’t want them.”

“You didn’t want a family?”

“I wantedmyfamily, not any other,” he replied, darkly, “So, I ran away a couple of days after they took me in.”

“Run away? But… where did you go?”

“I didn’t know where I was or where to go… I just wanted to find my sisters again and come back to ourrealhome, bearing ourrealname. So, young as I was, I had no option but to live in the streets.”

“The streets?” she asked in shock and, when he nodded, Preshea felt the need to ask another question, “How did you survive in the streets at such a young age?”

“It wasn’t easy.” His previous calm attitude vanished. “For long months I walked the unknown streets, barely surviving, suffering the cruel punishment of the cold and hunger, solitude, sickness and fear. Begging for food, asking for old coats and shoes, constantly hiding from the predators and dangers of the night… I am sure that the only thing that kept me alive was the ever so strong need for revenge, and the thought of seeing my sisters again. Until I realized I couldn’t depend on other people’s poor generosity anymore, until I understood that I had to fight for myself, because no one else would do it. Until the cold, fear, hunger and exhaustion were too much to bear. I decided I only had one choice…”

“What was it?”

He smiled wide, his eyes shined. “I started stealing.” Victor ignored Preshea’s muffled gasp. “And I got very good at it, very fast. I started with small things, just what I needed to survive – food, water, blankets… It escalated very quickly, for I found out how easy it truly was and I craved more small luxuries. I spent years perfecting my craft. Soon, I was ruling the streets.” He looked at the ceiling again, satisfaction plain on his face, as if he was having the most wonderful of recollections. “I got away with theft and soon prospered into other areas, realizing that most people are foolish and easily deceived, especially by a small, innocent child.” He laughed. “I was stealing, cheating, making up frauds and elaborate schemes, lying… And I was extremely gifted at it.”

“Victor…”

“It might not be a charming way of living,” he replied, “but I was surviving. And that was the only thing I was interested in.”

Preshea shook her head slowly and with sadness in her eyes. Victor ignored her. “Until one day, I tried to steal from the wrong person.” He returned his gaze to the ceiling, seemingly lost in some nostalgic memory. He even laughed.

“Who?”

“Another thief, another deceiver, just like me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I almost had him, too. I guess he had more experience. He had been doing it all his life, after all. He caught me.”

“Who was him?”

“Silas McGrath,” Victor said the name with something very close to a mix of love and sadness. “A man not much different from me. When he caught me trying to steal him out of his money, I was convinced he was going to kill me… but he laughed.”

“He laughed?”

“He thought I was very talented,” Victor answered with a wide, genuine smile, “He thought I was too intelligent, too gifted to throw away. So, instead of killing me or turning me over to the Guard, he decided to ‘adopt’ me.”

“He adopted you?”

“Well, not legally. He took me under his wing and I became something of his apprentice and assistant. Silas taught me new ways of deceiving, of stealing, new and more elaborate ways of scheming. And soon, we were unstoppable, making rivers of money.”

Victor sighed and played with his pen again. “Silas gave me a home, food, water, shelter, protection… in turn, I helped him grow richer and richer - illegally, of course. Together, we built a fortune. He became my mentor, something close to a father… Even though I always knew he never cared for me as a son.” His smile grew sadder. “I knew he only saw me as a tool to get wealthier… He told me so quite often.”

Preshea looked at him with pity, Victor simply shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “But that never bothered me much. I was not just surviving anymore… I was prospering, getting powerful. I have a lot to be grateful for… Silas not only taught me how to get the things I wanted, he taught me how to thrive… I owe him all I have.”

“You owe yourself...”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled again. “All that I have, I owe it to him. You see, before my twentieth birthday, Silas passed away.”

Preshea gasped again. “Why?”

“He became gravely ill due to his alcohol abuse.” Victor’s gaze didn’t leave his pen. “It was an unfortunate habit of his.” When his eyes returned to Preshea, he had a detached feel to his eyes, though his devilish smile was back. “He left me all his belongings, including all of his fortune. But the most precious thing Silas ever gave me, is something that I have worn ever since his death… A new identity.”

“A new… identity?”

His smile grew wider, he seemed wicked. “He gave me a rebirth, a new opportunity, an alter ego if you will, a new life, a new direction... He helped me build it, until it reached perfection… and it’s under that new name that he put all his possessions… It’s under that name that I will finally breathe again, that I will conquer my deepest desires. It’s that name that everyone will grow to fear and respect.” His eyes were darker, his sudden change in demeanor making her shudder, making her fear him for the first time. “He gave me Gabriel McGrath.”

Silence was installed and Preshea could only look at him. For the first time ever, she could not recognize him. Fearful of his answer, she nevertheless had to ask him one last question, praying that he would not answer what she already suspected.

“Victor…” she almost whispered, her voice almost shaking, “Why have you returned to St. Agnes?”

He kept the same evil, dark, almost mad look in his eyes. “To kill.”

“What?” She couldn’t hide the fear that reached her voice, she was trembling. “K-kill?”

Victor grinned, as if he was absorbing and thoroughly enjoying every second of her terrified expression. He got up from the desk and walked around the room. “I returned to reclaim what is rightfully mine. To get back all that was stolen from me. To re-unite my sisters, as I have always wished, and give them the life they always deserved.” He stopped pacing. “I returned to get revenge.”

“Revenge?” she asked, “Victor, that is not right,” she almost pleaded, “No one’s to blame about-“

“Don’t you dare, Preshea!” He interrupted, his tone harsh, “Don’t you dare tell me that no one’s to blame. What was done to my family was betrayal and criminal, it was cruel. I am simply returning the favor.”

“What is it you intend to do?” she whispered again.

“I intend to punish all those involved in my family’s demise,” he started pacing again, “the Skeffingtons betrayed us, my father loved them as his own family, and they stabbed him in the back.”

“It is impossible to know if that’s what really happened-“

“I was there!” he almost yelled. Preshea had never seen Victor so furious and mad, with such viciousness, “I saw Amos Skeffington arrive at this very house, leading the Guard to my father. Heknewthey were coming.Hecalled them! Skeffington hid in his mansion, as the disgusting coward he is, as my family fell apart and he took everything my father fought to accomplish. Preshea…” He was calmer now, though colder than ever. “If Amos Skeffington didn’t do it, then my father was guilty.”

“I… I never even thought… I mean, I knew your father. I… I loved him. I… could never believe he would so such things.”

“Exactly,” he answered, “My father was innocent. He was set up by his dearest friend. Amos Skeffington did it so he could rule a financial empire that belonged to my father and that he would never acquire otherwise.He did it. I know it, I saw it, I feel it.”

Preshea stared at her hands, nodding. “I know, I just… I wish you wouldn’t… I don’t want you to do this.”

“I am sorry, dear friend… But I am doing it, whether you like it or not.”

“What are you planning to do?” she sounded scared.

“I am Amos’s trusted business partner.” He smirked. “I will steal everything he has and I will do it right under his nose. I will have him trust me, as no other, and betray him, just like he did my father. Gabriel McGrath will soon own everything with the name Skeffington, and they will be left in poverty and misery, just like my family.” He paced around the room again. “Meanwhile, Selina, working inside their mansion, will slowly poison him. He will become weaker and sicker, he will have pain, he will suffer… He will die slowly, just like my father.” His grin widened, Preshea could only listen. “But he will not be the only one to die… Those responsible for the shameful arrest and that fake trial will not be left alive.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“I am talking about everyone who took money from Amos to seal my father’s fate: Reuben Musgrave, the Judge who unjustly convicted him to a lifetime of imprisonment. Octavius Graham, the lawyer who was supposed to defend my father and failed on purpose. Garret Fenwick, the Head of Jury who convinced the rest of them to find him guilty. Samuel Black, the Chief Detective who planted and forged false evidence… They will all perish.”

“Victor, please, would you listen to yourself? Listen to how many names you’ve listed… Do you really believe they all conspired together-“

“Yes.” His answer was so certain, so final, that Preshea knew he was sure of it. “I am not doing this on a whim, Preshea,” he continued, “I have studied the facts, I know of what I speak.” As she looked at him questioningly, he explained, “After the trial was over, each and every one of these disgusting individuals received a respectable amount of money.” Preshea’s eyes widened and Victor nodded. “The pay for their services. Now tell me, who else had the possessions to do it? Who else had both the money and the motive to corrupt them all and conspire all of this?”

“Amos Skeffington…” Preshea answered, still in a shocked gaze.

“I rest my case.” He smiled and sat down again. “It’s as I told you, dear friend, they’re evil, remorseless, cruel… And they deserve to pay. In the exact same manner.”

“Don’t do this, Victor,” and before he could interrupt her again, she spoke quickly, “Not for them… for yourself. For your sisters… Don’t corrupt yourselves like this.”

“There is no point, Preshea,” he told her, “I have to do this. Iwilldo this, no matter what you say. It’s all I really want.”

“Don’t you think people will know? People will get suspicious of you-“

“No one knows we’re here,” he calmly told her, “We have adopted new identities. No one knows us, except for you.”

“Why not tell St. Agnes of your findings? Tell them about your discoveries, your investigation… People will believe you! They will be thrown in jail and-“

“That’s not enough…” he almost whispered, “I want themdead.”

There were a few minutes devoted to silence, during which she tried to plead with him with her eyes, but Victor ignored it as usual. “Do not worry, old friend… I have it all well planned. We will not be suspects and, even if we are, there won’t be a shred of evidence.Weare the predators now. Even Skeffington himself trusts me.” His smile faltered though, as soon as something struck his memory. “The only loose end is Julius Grunt, he’ll be suspicious.”

“Julius Grunt?”

“Julius works for Amos for a long time now, my father introduced them to each other,” he explained, “He quickly became their close friend and trusted adviser. He’s a scholar and has wisdom and knowledge and is a good judge of character. I remember he looked surprised by my father’s conviction when he came to show his support to my mother. He knew my father was innocent then and he knows something is wrong with me now. He will be hard to fool.” Then he grinned, and Preshea shuddered yet again. “But I do love a good challenge…”

***

“Selina!” Ethel called her sister’s name as she went down the stairs, happily holding a small vial filled with a transparent liquid. She had returned from the market hours ago, purchased all the ingredients she needed, confectioned them to her liking and now had, hidden in her bedroom, a whole shell inside of her closet full of different vials with different venoms – a few of them were stronger, others were weaker. The one she was holding was a weak one, for Victor had told her he wanted Amos’s death to be very slow and painful. “Selina!”

Selina came from the main corridor, she seemed to have been cleaning a few of the rooms. “Yes?”

Ethel smiled wide at her, until she noticed her sister’s dirty gown. “Don’t tell me you were cleaning, darling?”

Selina answered, with a smile of her own, “Why yes, actually I was.”

“Oh, my dear sweet child…” Ethel dramatically sighed and caressed her sister’s hair. “You don’t need to do that, silly.” Her smile widened and she gestured towards the two children inexplicably following her as usual. “That’s what they’re here for.”

“Oh, Ethel…” Selina shook her head, as Alice frowned. “I don’t think the children should-“

“Never mind, dear, I will see to it.” Ethel waved her hand nonchalantly. “No, your job is of another nature.”

“What do you mean?”

“I, being the incredibly talented and brilliant woman I am, have already concluded a part of my task.” She laughed. “Here it is.” She handed Selina the small vial with excitement.

Selina held it, a questioning, almost fearful look on her face as she first studied the fragile vial and looking at her sister afterwards. “What is it?”

“Why, it’s the venom, of course,” Ethel replied, “Aren’t you excited? We can finally put our brother’s marvelous plan into action”

“The…the venom?” Selina’s voice trembled.

“Yes, of course,” Ethel answered, as if it was obvious, “That’s the one you’re to, discreetly, pour into Amos’s drink, as soon as you can.”

Selina started shaking, visibly upset and on the verge of panic. “Sir Skeffington’s… Sir Skeffinton’s venom? I…I…”

“Oh, my dearest…” Ethel gently hugged her, caressing her long hair again. “Don’t worry, he will never know it. It’s completely safe, no one will be able to see it, smell it or taste it.” Ethel parted from her, but still held her shoulders. “Trust me, alright?”

“But… it… it will hurt him, won’t it?” Selina stared at Ethel with a pleading look. “Iwill hurt him”

“Well, certainly, that’s the whole point, isn’t…” But Ethel didn’t finish her sentence. She stared at the ground, sighed, and returned her eyes to Selina, smiling with love. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, dear.” All of the traces of madness and excitement were gone from her face and tone, all that remained were signs of care. Selina was instantly reminded of her older sister’s way, when they were only children. “It won’t hurt him much. It will only make him feel slightly weaker and tired. Trust me.”

Feeling much calmer and reassured, Selina weakly smiled and nodded, holding the bottle to her chest. “I trust you.”

Ethel returned her smile and let go of her sister’s shoulders. “Now, forget the cleaning, let us rest. I must get myself a glass of wine and will join you shortly. We still have much to talk about.” Selina nodded again, her smile growing and Ethel made her way out of the living room. “Would you like some wine, too?”

Selina replied a soft, “No, thank you.” Ethel continued her walk towards the kitchen. Once she got there, she poured the wine into a glass, drank it all in one quick sip, and poured herself some more. When she turned to the door, she almost dropped her glass in surprise, as she hadn’t noticed little Joshua’s presence.

“Good God, you will be the death of me,” she whispered, her hand flying to her chest as she tried to regain her composure and her breath. She soon felt ready to present the boy with one of her signature glares. “Would you stop chasing me? I cannot stand the sight of you anymore!”

She made for the door, when Joshua suddenly spoke, his voice darker and more serious than she had ever heard, his stare as detached as Alice’s. “You have a terrible secret.”

Ethel froze in place, her eyes widened and she slowly turned to him, whispering, “What did you just say?”

“You have a terrible, dark secret,” he repeated, his gaze still hard, frozen and angry.

“How can you possibly know that? she asked, getting angrier and slowly approaching him, slight fear consuming her, “Who told you such a thing?”

Joshua kept his stance, looking at her through very unfamiliar coldness and defiance. It was like the little boy was possessed, like he was in a disturbing trance, completely out of emotion.

“You have a terrible, dark secret. You hide terrible things. Jacob told me so.”