(D)evil within

C H A P T E R VIII

。・゜・Evelyn・゜・。

I didn't know that Laurence had organised a ball until the night in question. He had confronted me in the hallway and told me to find a suitable gown from one of the many spare bedrooms. Frankly, I felt rude. Rummaging through strangers' clothes with the intention to look good. I had no idea who would be there tonight, not a clue, and it made my stomach churn. Laurence himself was a creature of darkness, and I knew that pools of cruelty lay deeply within him-I didn't want to discover them.

The night began with a bang, people flooded through the doors, each as peculiar as one another. I saw a woman unbearably tall; she was at least six foot five, almost a foot higher than average! Men with beards that brushed their belly buttons, hair emitting from their nostrils and ears. Then there was the opposite, women with no hair on their head, face or body, they were sickly thin with their bones eroding their skin. Fat, skinny, tall, short, poor, rich. Everyone came. I saw people that I had never seen before. People with dark coloured skin, folded of different clay to people of Britain. I wondered how the people here could be so different. Forever taught that we all descended from Adam and Eve-a fair skinned man and woman-I was left in a state of shock.

"Close your mouth," a shiver scattered my body as I felt Laurence's breath on my neck. "It's rude to stare at my guests in such a manner."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my hands. I felt as though I stood out, not because I was an off-duty maid, but because my skin was covered. I had found an old, traditional gown in one of the many wardrobes. It was a yellow dress with delicate lace ruffles on the cuffs. The white material grazed my fingertips. Pearls graced the deep neckline that exposed my defined collarbones. My hair had been pinned up, loose curls falling and touching my neck.

Laurence wore a wine-red suit jacket made of a soft velvet with a black waistcoat, his white shirt was tucked into his trousers. His shoes were shiny and sharply polished. His dark hair had been combed back; his eyes gleaming mischievously as he smiled.

"You look lovely, my dearest Evelyn."

"Thank you, Sir." I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks as he walked away.

I found my way to a rounded table and picked up a tall drink of a dark red liquid, it was thick and dank as it sloshed around in the glass. I wasn't quite sure what it was, it smelt of lavender and sugar-something I'd never smelt before. I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip. Every flavour hit me at once. Sweet honey suckle mixed with sour rhubarb tingled on my tongue. The taste stung as it changed-cherries stabbed my cheeks and oranges cut my gums. The fruit cocktail puzzled me, I looked up as the room swirled. The chandelier glowed ever brighter-but how can light be brighter within seconds? The people around me blurred until all I could see were slurs of people. I staggered to find the bathroom, laughing surrounded me as the twisted people danced in a twisted way to a twisted song.

The music and laughter silenced, and I sighed in relief as I leant myself against the wall to gain my balance. My head felt elsewhere, and I couldn't feel my feet. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but it was long enough to notice the oil painting that hung from the wall. The painting showed a man, maybe in his mid-twenties, his brown locks were mid length and he wore a white shirt with a high collar. He wore a lace cravat tucked into his tall collared waistcoat. A black tailcoat graced his arms and a golden pocket watch nestled in his pocket. Sideburns brushed his angelic face. That face-so angelic-like Lucifer himself. I frowned, stepping closer as I read the golden plaque beneath it.

'Master Laurence Greystoke. 1734.'

1734-more than one hundred years ago.

The soft sound of a woman's content sigh distracted me from my trail of though. The leisurely sound of a couple kissing filled my ears. My curiosity peaked, and I followed my senses. I rounded the sharp corner to find two bodies pressed against a wall. A taller, masculine body shadowed the shorter other. I stepped closer, realising that the bigger shadow was Damien. His shirt was dishevelled and revealed the top of his muscular chest. Bite marks scarred his succulent flesh. I blinked, my vision sharpening slightly. The person beneath him was a woman-except she wasn't wearing a gown of any sort. She wore gentleman's trousers and a gentleman's shirt. Her hair was considerably short for a woman. She could've fooled me into thinking she was a man, if it wasn't for the fact that her shirt was completely undone, and Damien held her perked breast in his broad hand whilst the other hung loose for the world to see. Damien's other hand was tucked into the woman's trousers, practised movements moved the material ever so slightly as her hips rocked.

They hadn't realised I was there, I know this because they continued to passionately kiss one another, their sensual moans drifting from their lips. Damien twisted the woman's nipple in his rough fingers, causing her to arch her back and turn her head. She was breathless, hysteria mimicking her pleasure. Her eyes opened, murky with desire. They were blue. She had a very slender face. She reached her hand up and scraped her dark hair from her sweat slickened forehead, an action removing the façade of the person I saw before me.

Jay.

Jay and Damien.

There they were, in the corridor of the mansion, fondling eachother with an undeniable delight. Their not so private moment paused as they turned to look at me, their faces flushed from a lack of oxygen. I'm truly glad there was no mirror, because I don't think anything could hide the disgust that had dug itself into my face. But after a second of staring at eachother, Jay turned to face his-her-twin brother. Her eyes were clouded as she kissed his neck and found the opening of her trousers. Damien broke our gaze as he propped her up softly and undid his own. A satisfied slur drifted from her lips as they connected in a way that siblings never should.

I ran. I felt sick. I could never unsee what I had just witnessed.

Jay-the boy I had seen at the butchers, was really a girl. And she was committing sin with her brother in the sickest way possible. I needed refuge. I ran to Laurence's office and went to knock the door. I paused, hearing Laurence yell for the first time ever. The sound frightened me. Then I heard a woman.

He wasn't alone.