Masquerade {A Penderry's Bizzare Fanfic}《COMPLETED ✔️》

•Chapter Eighteen•

Westman's eyelids flickered as he awoke, being greeted by the relieved expression of Jim. Jack gained Westman's attention by nuzzling into him further, the man stroking Jack's pelt with appreciation.

"Hello, Jack."

"We didn't think you were going to wake up. How are you feeling, old chap?"

Old chap? We are the same age.

"I feel as though someone has hit me repeatedly with bricks. Other than that, I am perfectly fine. How long was I sleeping?"

"An hour at the most, sir." Rose replied, offering her assistance by helping Westman to sit up. The greying maid was careful not to hurt him, though gasped when Westman groaned. "Oh dear, I am so very sorry."

"Do not blame yourself. It's not your fault; I have the most terrible headache. I thought vampires were not supposed to feel things like this? What...what happened to me? Why am I here?"

"That is what we were hoping you could tell us." Blaire said rather emotionlessly, arms folded as she looked out the window and spotted nothing but horrible clouds and gloomy skies. "It appears you were put under a spell, a spell that allows you feel pain for a set time. I believe only those who practice black magic can do this, so whoever did this to you wanted you to feel everything that was being done to you."

"Now that you mention it, my chest does feel rather sore. As though someone has stood on it." Westman said, coughing to catch his breath. His lungs felt punctured, though there seemed to be no sign of any internal damage. Thank God healing abilities came with being a vampire; otherwise he may not have been so lucky.

"Do you remember anything that may have happened?" Ollie asked, feeling all the more helpless when Westman shook his head.

"Unfortunately I do not. My memories are scattered. The throbbing in my head does not help very much either. If there was only some way that I could remember..."

"Lacrime, Alfred. It was Lacrime."

"Lacrime."

"Lacrime is the culprit."

"You fool, Lacrime is the one responsible for this!"

Westman ignored the voices with all his might, wishing they would stay quiet because of his headache. He noticed Rose petting Jack, assuming she must have had a dog of her own at some point in her younger years.

"I had a dog just like you when I was eleven," she said to Jack, the softness taking her back to her childhood. "Oddly enough, his name was also Jack- short for Jackson, it was. He was my best friend, and he would always be protective of me. You're a good dog for being by your master's side in his time of need, you are very loyal indeed."

Jack perked up on hearing Rose's words, Westman rolling his eyes. "As soon as you hear a good word about you, you act as though you are an adored prince."

"Perhaps he has royal blood." Rose joked, dismissing herself with a polite bow of her head. "I shall fetch you something to drink, sir. Staying hydrated is very important, especially in your condition, sir."

"That is-"

Rose had already gone before Westman had the chance to say anything. Now that he was alone with Jim and his grandchildren, it was only going to be a matter of time before they questioned him in their own way.

"Care to explain what those scars on your arms and wrists are?" Jim asked, voice meaning business. "Did he do this to you?"

"I beg your pardon? What do you mean?"