Chapter Sixteen
Baron von Landau watched the couple with a warm smile on his face. However, inside he was awash with apprehension and anger mixed in equal parts.
He had nobody to offer Lord Harbury. His best candidate had stayed away, and he’d quickly realized there were few present who might fulfill the bare minimum of his requirements. Those who did—would be missed.
He couldn’t afford any kind of outcry, and that realization left him empty handed. Something he knew Randall Harbury would find completely unacceptable.
He had his handkerchief folded and ready, and the small vial of chloroform nestled in an inside pocket of his evening jacket. But not one viable body to act as a vessel for Lord Harbury’s brain. And more importantly in the Baron’s agenda, no brain that was just right for preservation outside the body.
His Lordship’s dramatic behavior was raising any number of red flags in Gerolf’s mind, to go along with everything else. His arrival, much that of a golden god appearing from the skies to fascinate the mortals over whom he reigned…well it was theatre, all right. But the kind of theatre that spelled trouble, and the Baron didn’t like it.
He stepped quietly away from the shining couple, a casual move that would attract no attention, but effectively took him out of the limelight.
Harbury continued his verbose monologue, holding the attention of his guests with ease. He was thanking specific members of the Airship Command, and nodding as the applause greeted each citation.
The Baron’s mind raced as he turned over the possibilities. Could he kill Randall? Yes, but there was no weapon at hand and in all honesty, he’d prefer not to have a large audience for such an execution.
Then there was Lady Alwynne. She was pale, very pale, sitting motionless next to her husband, her eyes seldom glancing his way, her hand resting elegantly on the neckline of her gown.
Now and again her eyes would look toward the circling airships, still making their way around the room, striking sparks of brilliance from the chandeliers as they grazed the crystals, making them shiver and shimmer.
It would seem that Harbury was winding down.
“And so it felt quite appropriate to create a special throne for the Queen of this evening’s festivities. She does indeed deserve to stand alone, above us all. In her own mind, anyway.”
von Landau blinked at that. Odd phrasing? Perhaps he’d misinterpreted the statement, but the puzzled looks around him told him otherwise.
“So if you would join me in applauding Lady Harbury…?” He began to clap his hands, as the restless and by now uncomfortable guests added their own applause.
Alwynne rose and held up a hand for silence.
“My dear friends,” she said, her voice steady and crystal clear. “I too am very happy to see you all here tonight, and to join you in celebrating the bravery and accomplishments of our courageous Military.”
That was good for a moment of genuine enthusiasm. But no smile crossed the lips of the lady shining in green and white.
“My husband has been very thoughtful in presenting me with this delightful chair. I find that I must rest a little now and again, but it hasn’t stopped me from enjoying this evening’s gaieties.” She moved forward, away from Harbury’s side.
“As you may know, some time ago I suffered grievous injuries during an attack from the most violent and terrible persons. It was a night of horror that will live in my dreams for the rest of my life.” She lifted her chin. “Fortunately, and with the help of excellent physicians, I have managed to heal and resume my day-to-day activities, with limitations, of course.”
Claps and cheers greeted this announcement, and she let a faint smile curve her lips.
What have you up your sleeve, my Lady? Gerolf’s silent question hung in his mind like the sputtering fuse on the top of a bomb.
“As you may also know, most of the perpetrators of that tragic night died at that time. Justice was indeed served by their deaths. However, there is one who did not die, and for whom justice still awaits.”
She turned then, a sharp twist, putting herself face to face with her husband.
“So tonight, there will be justice for the final offender. There will be justice for the one who has taken life without a second thought. Who has tortured, maimed, raped and disfigured too many, all without any kind of contrition.”
Harbury’s head lifted at her loud declamation, and Gerolf swore he heard a soft snarl emanating from that torn mouth.
“For you, husband. Animal, monster, beast that you have become. Say your farewells. Now.”
She touched her bodice and suddenly there were rapid pops throughout the ballroom.
The Baron ducked instinctively, but these were not gunshots…they were coming from the airships. Little puffs of smoke, followed by bigger puffs of smoke, and then one caught fire…and another…
As they burned, hot wax dripped, spattering guests who had begun to shriek as their hair and skin burned beneath the boiling drops.
One fell, catching a gown and setting it ablaze.
Screams rang out and panic began, turning the ballroom into a nightmarish scene of terror and fire.
Harbury himself stood directly beneath an airship, the wax falling harmlessly onto his mask, and dappling the golden fabric of his jacket. Incredibly, he laughed.
“You stupid bitch.”
Alwynne was staring at him, her mouth open, her face devoid of expression.
“It took very little thought on my part to realize you were plotting something…so your little gift, the pin complete with thonirium? Well it’s not on my lapel, for certain. But your idea was actually a good one. I put a few thonirium beads in those ridiculous things.” He pointed upward, then stepped off the platform and walked away from the throne toward Gerolf. “Hullo, Baron. Sorry about the fuss, but I believe my wife intended to kill me this evening.” He snorted. “My advice to you, dear friend…don’t marry. Fuck all you want, but marry none, because they’re the very devil to dispose of.”
He stopped and turned, staring at the motionless figure, uncaring of the chaos and screams surging around the ballroom. “There’s really only one way to get rid of a wife…” he chuckled, a hollow and ugly sound that made Gerolf shiver. “Watch.”
There was a muffled boom and the floor of the ballroom shook, several windows shattering and adding shards of glass to the incipient disaster.
To his astonishment, the throne exploded into a cloud of vaporous particles. The force was so great that Alwynne was thrown several yards across the ballroom, right toward where Gerolf and Harbury were bent low to avoid the flying debris.
She cannoned into the Baron, stunned and limp, and somehow he caught her.
As if instinct took over, he put her down, grabbed his chloroform and held the handkerchief over her nose, reducing her to a limp figure within moments.
“What are you doing, you fool? She is supposed to die,” growled Harbury.
Gerolf looked up in desperation. “I have no subject for you, my Lord. She is the only option. Would you accept her as your new host?” He had to shout the words over the noise surrounding them.
The seconds after his question seemed like hours to the Baron. Around him, screaming guests were trying to get out, to tear off burning silks and satins, running half-clad out into the snowy night.
There were more than a few men directing the panicked crowd to exits, a show of organization that surprised him. But then again, he supposed the military was good at these sorts of things.
All these thoughts flashed through his mind as he awaited Harbury’s decision.
“Bollocks. All right. We’ll use her.” He sighed, a whistling noise from the side of the mask. “Makes me a bit sad I carved up her back, but you can probably remove that once I’m inside her head and that bitch is no more than slop in a bucket.”
With that, the Baron picked up the unconscious form of Lady Alwynne and rushed toward the other end of the ballroom, followed by Lord Harbury. They both knew the corridor to the laboratories opened just on the other side of that doorway, and in an instant they were past the concealed entrance and free of the smoke and screams, hurrying into the silent darkness that would lead them to their destination.
“I think I shall enjoy being her,” said Harbury. “I cannot say truthfully that I enjoyed taking her, but it will be interesting to experience fucking from a woman’s perspective.”
“Quite.” Breathless as he carefully carried his burden through a narrow passageway, Gerolf said no more. Engaging in conversation at this point would not be productive.
Harbury gave an odd high-pitched little laugh. “Just think, dear Gerolf. I shall be the last thing she sees before she dies.”
*~~*~~*
Alwynne’s head hurt and she moaned a little as she fought to find some kind of sanity.
Her world was spinning between light and dark, she had a bad taste in her mouth and she felt as if she drifted between sleep and wakefulness.
“Wake up, dear wife.”
She cried out at the two vicious slaps to her face.
“That’s better. Can’t have you sleeping through all the fun, can we? I would not wish you to miss anything, darling.”
She shuddered at the all-too-familiar sound of Randall’s voice, and tried to move away, but to her surprise she could not. She found herself trapped, manacled to a chair of some sort, her wrists and ankles secured with leather straps.
“Do you know where you are? Of course not. How could you? He drugged you, the clever boy. So fast, too. I’m impressed with the Baron, as I know you are. The only difference is that I never really wanted to fuck him. But I’m quite certain you did.”
She blinked to clear her eyes and winced as pain shot through her.
“Oh yes, you hurt, I’m sure.” He gloated over her. “You should be dead, of course, my dear. Blown to tiny smithereens by all the lovely bits of thonirium you so kindly harvested on my behalf.”
She moaned and shook her head. “No, no…”
“Yes, yes, bitch,” Randall answered. “You thought I wouldn’t find them, didn’t you? Thought you could blow us all to Kingdom come with your silly little airships and your silly little pin.”
Darkness filled her vision for a few moments and she struggled to breathe. “Gerolf didn’t know. How could he? But you knew. You knew how to put tiny dabs of explosive into wax. I watched you.” He giggled, a terrible sound that made her teeth ache. “Another thing you didn’t know, dumb cunt.”
She wanted to answer him, or ignore him, or get up and walk away from his burbling and disgusting soliloquy. But she could do nothing; her words would not come, his mask mesmerized her and she was imprisoned by her bonds.
He fidgeted. “Pay attention. You’re going to die soon. Do you know that?” He giggled again. “The life is going to drain out of you as your dear Baron begins to drill a hole in your skull.”
She sucked in air, choked and coughed, unable to comprehend what he was saying.
“Oh yes. He’s going to take out your brain. Isn’t that fun?”
“Noooo,” she moaned.
But then she froze as she felt hands in her hair and scissors sounded, chopping through the blonde locks and bumping hard against her scalp. Tears formed, falling freely down her cheeks. “Please…” she pushed the word through lips that felt like stone.
Terror flooded her, a freezing flow of ice pouring over her body. She began to shake as more hair fell and the cool air touched skin that had been hidden for many years.
“See this, dear wife?” Randall leaned over her shoulder and came back clutching a handful of curls. “You used to tease us poor men with this. Tossing it around, playing with it, forcing us to look at you because you wouldn’t let us fuck you, just get hard with lust for you.”
He glanced down at himself. “I’m not hard now, bitch. Not for the bald ugly thing you’ve become.”
There was a sound behind her and suddenly iron bands descended over her face, one trapping her chin and the other her forehead.
She tried to scream through a mouth that was now held closed, panicking more and more as each terrible minute passed.
Her head was icy cold, and she knew that whatever hair she’d cherished was gone. She sobbed, fighting against the restraints, knowing whatever move she made or sound she managed to utter was amusing the creature staring at her.
“You look so stupid, cunt.” He stood, arms folded, watching her. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to tell you how much I loathe you. You disgust me, with your miserable little affairs, and your constant need to fuck anything in breeches, except me.” He pulled up a seat and arranged himself, almost knee to knee with her. “I hate you, Alwynne. Didn’t always, but it wasn’t long before I found out what you were. Sometimes you were still enough like me that I didn’t really mind you being around. But then you started your sick pursuit of other men.”
He tapped her knee. “I knew about all of them. I knew about that vapor those idiots made for you, and what it did for you and to you. I watched sometimes, but that stopped being fun after a while. Just boring.”
Paralyzed now, lost in her own terror, Alwynne was helpless and that was the most frightening thing of all. Her heart was pounding, her skin chilled and she held on to consciousness with a mighty effort.
Randall stood, the chair squeaking as he pushed it backward, and walked around behind her.
“Gerolf?”
“Almost ready,” came the low answer.
Then… ”Ach…sohn einer Hündin!”
“What?”
“Power is too low, my Lord. Did you request power for this time? I believe we discussed it.”
“Fuck.”
Randall’s voice sounded furious, and she heard his footsteps as he left the chamber. A tiny little flare of hope flickered inside her heart…perhaps the Baron would take pity on her.
She moaned and tugged on her straps, trying to attract his attention. “Mmmpfff…” The chin restraint held her mouth closed tight, but she kept trying.
“Be quiet, please. There is nothing I can do to help you now. Lord Harbury is directing this operation and both of us are under his control.”
At that, a little part of Alwynne Harbury began to die. It was difficult to understand there would be no last minute reprieve, no maniacal laughter as Randall declared it all a big joke and tripped away to his next awful adventure.
No, this might well be the last moment for her.
“I’ve spoken to Robert and Arthur,” Randall’s voice returned as the door opened and closed. “You should have power any moment now.”
“Good, danke. Thank you…”
There were more mechanical sounds from behind her chair and then she gasped as something cold and round pushed against the back of her head.
“Wait…” Randall hurried to the front of the chair and sat.
“You might wish to move backward, my Lord. Just in case there are unexpected consequences…”
Randall took the Baron’s warning to heart, and slid his chair a few feet further back. “Good advice, my friend.” He settled again. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Alwynne’s brain was reeling; scattered thoughts dancing through her brain on darts of half-words, and all she could see was that terrible mask.
As if he heard that, Harbury lifted his hands and removed it. What lay beneath was even worse.
“Your last sight on earth, Lady Harbury.” He spat the words from half a mouth, one side of his face completely gone now; an eyeball loosely rotating in its socket, with scarred skin hanging in shreds beneath.
He was truly a monster, thought Alwynne. Dear God, stop him before it gets any worse…
A sharp cut, like burning ice, seared her head and she felt moisture flowing down over her neck and shoulders. Dear God. Gerolf was slicing at her scalp. Her muted scream accomplished nothing; Randall just grinned and stared at her as she grew numb to the pain.
The pressure on her skull increased and a new sound filled the air. It was soft and rhythmic and as it grew louder, she felt a tingling over her scalp.
“Goodbye, dear fucking bitch. Say hello to the Devil for me when you get to Hell.”
His twisted and vicious whisper slithered into her ears, just as a bolt of violent agony ripped into the back of her head.
Her throat tore apart from the force of the scream—muted by her sealed lips.
Harbury laughed, a spine-chilling sound…
The pain…it was too much…blood in her mouth…she couldn’t breathe…
Her vision dimmed to grey…
Then there was no more pain, no more terror or fear, and for a single instant Alwynne Harbury floated free of her earthly existence…
After that…there was nothing at all.