The next wardrobe was his father’s. Black and gray coats bulged next to matching trousers. Crisp shirts filled the balance of the space. Ien riffled through the clothes, landing on a heavy woolen cloak, dated for the current trend, but perfect for his purposes.
He pulled it free and stared. Long and heavy, the black hooded cloak looked more like something his grandfather would have worn. He slipped the garment on and pulled up the hood. Looking in the gilded mirror placed between the closets, Ien examined his face. It was perfectly concealed; no hint of his grotesque features could be seen from any angle.
“Perfect,” he said as he returned the room to its pristine condition.
Carefully he walked back into the hall and toward the back stairs which led to the servants’ pantry.
“Ien?”
Jenna’s voice startled him. He steadied himself, unprepared to see her. Slowly, he turned.
She stood, mouth open. The color drained from her skin before she could speak. She looked as though she had just seen death.
Maybe she had.
“It’s you,” she said. “It’s really you.”
“Shh.” Desperation coated Ien’s tongue. “No one can know I’m here.”
There were few secrets between Ien and Jenna. She knew of the abuse he had endured. And the pain and guilt he had felt over Erik’s death.
She knew of the hallucinations and nightmares. Knew his secrets. All of them. She was his secret keeper, always had been.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “If your mother finds out—”
“She can’t know. Neither can Father.”
“You’re father isn’t here.”
“Not here? Why?”
“Your parents…they yelled a lot after you left. Your mother blamed Mr. Montgomery for sending you away. He’s been spending most of his time in London and Paris, expanding the business.”
Ien furrowed his brow. “When did this start?”
“The day of your funeral. Your mother has been trying to keep up appearances, but everyone knows of the problems. It’s quite the scandal, actually. Lots of rumors floating around about both of them.”
Ien thought of his mother. A scandal in the Montgomery household. She no doubt felt like her world was crashing down around her.
Just what you deserve, Mother.
Ien took a step toward Jenna. “I need a favor,” he said. The hood slipped, revealing a corner of his charred skin.
Jenna didn’t flinch at the sight, no revulsion in her eyes. She reached her hand to his face. He pulled away. She refused to let up. “Trust me,” she said, locking eyes with him. “Trust me.”
Ien closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. She lowered his hood and traced the contours of his face, settling on the hardened skin. Her touch released a slight gasp from Ien.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can’t feel much of anything anymore.” At least not physical pain.
“Your face hasn’t healed. I thought by now—”
“Me too.”
Ien trembled as Jenna finished exploring his injuries.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stroking the smooth skin on his left cheek. “I know you won’t believe this, but you’re still you. Still beautiful. This, your face, it doesn’t change anything. Not to me.”
Her words unleashed more torment than all of the repulsion he’d ever witnessed from those curious enough to risk a glance in his direction. He allowed the anguish to wash through him, fueling his rage. No matter what Jenna thought, he knew the truth; knew he’d become a monster. And he knew why.
“Jenna?”
“Yes,” she said, finally pulling her hands away.
“I need a favor from you.”
Jenna stared into Ien’s eyes and straight through to his soul. He shrunk from the scrutiny, not wanting for her to see the blackness in his heart. He looked down, his breath suddenly short. He focused on the question forming on his tongue, ignoring the strange emotions swirling around him.
“What is it?”
Jenna’s voice oriented his thoughts, but confused his emotions. Something more than friendship flirted with his mind.
He shook his head, willing the unwelcomed feelings away. “Kiera,” he voiced past his lips. The taste of her name settled him instantly. “I need to find her.”
Sadness crept into Jenna’s expression and she swallowed hard. “She’s probably practicing at the concert hall,” she said, releasing a heavy sigh. “Her debut is next week.” Jenna’s eyes glistened as she turned away.
Ien grabbed her arm and spun her around. Again he was strangled by emotions he couldn’t understand. All he knew was that he wanted—no needed—to take her pain away, pain he caused. Somehow.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll never forget this.”
A shiver rippled over Jenna as time seemed to stop. Ien leaned in toward her, trembling.
“I have to go,” she whispered as she pulled free from his grasp. “Be careful you’re not seen.” Jenna walked down the hall.
“Jenna.” Her name died on Ien’s lips.
She disappeared around the corner, never turning back. His body stiffened with the myriad of confused emotions playing through him.
Get a grip, Ien. Focus.
Erik’s voice oriented him in an instant. “I’m coming for you, Mother.”
~
Ien emptied his mind as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. He slid against the walls, desperate to avoid another meeting with the staff. No one but Jenna would keep his secrets.
The place was unusually empty and quiet, a mere echo of the typical hustle he remembered about his home. Mother's voice filled the corridors outside of the pantries and kitchen, growing more distant.
“When are the draperies being done? I want everything perfect for the reception tomorrow night.” She spoke with the same contempt she’d always held when commanding the kitchen staff.
“Today ma’am. Soon.”
“Very good.”
Ien hated how his mother expected the world to bend to her will at a moment’s notice. He wondered about the reception, wondered what new debutante Mother was introducing to the world.
“Have the Thoburn’s responded yet?” she asked, the sound coming closer.
Ien slipped into the shadows of the hall, pulling the hood up over his head.
“Yes ma’am,” someone unfamiliar answered. “Mr. Thoburn and his son will be here soon.”
“Very well.” Mother walked towards the salon.
James?
Ien thought about the parties and receptions his mother had thrown over the years. Debutant balls, engagements, mergers between family businesses. None of them sounded like something James would attend.
What are you up to, Mother?
He crept down the hall, following the sound of his mother’s voice. His heart beat faster with each step, getting ever closer to the moment he’d fantasized about in excruciating detail—
The look of terror that would cloud Mother’s eyes.
The sound of her voice when she pleaded for her life.
The shock when she realized her words held no power over Ien anymore.
The fantasy excited him. He wanted it all. Now.
Ien followed as close as he dared, listening as Mother mumbled to the staff. Her words were inhaled by the walls, leaving only fragments. “This has to work…James, he is the answer…even with the McDougal girl…he alone can save the company…debt to pay.”
Ien was confused. What debt? What had happened in his absence? How were the Thoburn’s involved?
And why would Mother mention Kiera at all?
He stood at the door to the salon, listening. Mother’s heels clicked along the hard floor at a rhythmic pace. She had traded mumbling for pacing, something she did obsessively anytime she felt the need to control a situation. Back and forth she walked, silent save the constant sound of her steps.
What are you waiting for? Do it.
Ien took a long breath and settled himself, blocking out the incessant voices. Grasping the door knob, he turned it slowly, careful to make no sound. Thankfully, the servants kept the hinges well oiled.
He peeked through the slight opening. Mother had stopped pacing, settling in front of the large window. She stared out at the gardens, her cheeks moist.
For a brief moment Ien paused, surprised to see her tears. He could only remember seeing her cry once. Erik’s death. What could possibly make her cry now? Certainly not Ien.
Focus, brother! You’re here for only one reason. Our vengeance
.
Ien swallowed his concern away and stepped into the room, locking the door behind him. “Hello Mother,” he said. He could almost feel the shiver that ran down his mother’s back. “I thought it was time I paid you a proper visit.”
She whipped around, her face ashen with shock.
“Oh, forgive my manners.” Ien lowered his hood, revealing the horror of his face and her guilt. He watched as her expression turned to disgust. “Should I have sent word of my visit first?”
Mother stood, frozen. She examined every feature of his unbandaged face, her eyes catching like fingernails on silk at every scar, every ligament, each piece of exposed bone. His heart beat faster as her complexion paled.
Thump-thump
She opened her mouth to speak, her words displaced by an acrid silence that filled the spaces between them.
Thump-thump.
She backed away and flattened herself against the wall.
Thump-thump.
Tears filled her eyes. Fear flooded her face.
“I know, Mother, I hate how things turned out too. My face really is hideous, isn’t it?” Ien’s voice was cold and detached, just like Mother’s. “An abomination, I think you called it.”
“Ien, how? You can’t be here.” The words cracked on each syllable.
“What’s wrong? Shocked that your plans for my death didn’t work?” Ien took a step closer to her. “You’ve failed, Mother. You’ve failed. I am very much alive.”
She edged across the wall, eyeing the door on the far end of the room. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as the room tightened around them.
“It’s ironic, really. I have wished for my own death nearly as often as you prayed for it. I mean, look at me. Why would anyone
want
to live this way?”
Mother remained silent.
“At least, that’s how you think. Isn’t it? I’m not worth saving if I’m deformed, if I’m an embarrassment to the family.”
Her eyes widened and darted from side to side as she continued to edge towards the door.
Ien closed the distance between them, blocking her path. “Why Mother, you seem afraid of me. Are you not overjoyed to see your son returned from the dead? Isn’t that what you always wanted? Oh wait, that’s right—you prayed for Erik’s return, not mine. Sorry to disappoint. Again.”
The expression on Mother’s face hardened. “You have it wrong, Ien. You’ve always had it wrong. And you don’t scare me. I know you won’t hurt me. You can’t.”
Ien laughed. “Oh, you
are
afraid, Mother. Terrified. It never occurred to you that your little plan with Sister Agnes would fail, did it?” Ien paused, reading the rapidly changing feelings passing through Mother’s expression.
Pain.
Rage.
Terror.
And something more…
Regret.
He watched as she swallowed hard, no longer shaking. “Why did you come here?” she asked, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. “Vengeance?”
“I came for answers, Mother. Answers for a lifetime of abuse by you. I need to watch your face as you explain how a mother can do the things you’ve done. I need to know if you’re even capable of loving me.”
“Of course I love you. You are my son.”
“
Was
your son, Mother. You told the world that I died.”
“I was protecting you.”
Anger surged through Ien. He placed his arms on either side of her and pinned her against the wall. “Don’t lie to me. Nothing you did was to protect me.” He seared with feral rage.
She turned away from the intensity of his stare, the sight of his deformity. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand that you told them to kill me. I understand you would rather have me dead than looking like this.” Ien grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet the madness in his eyes. “I understand that I’ve never been anything more than a disappointment to you and Father, that you think the wrong son died last year.”
“It isn’t like that, Ien. You have to believe me.” The words rushed out of Mother’s mouth in a garbled mess.
“Then explain it to me.” Ien still had her pinned against the wall, moving his hand from her face to her throat. “Explain how you were angry that I would choose Kiera over the family. Explain how you set that fire and meant for me to die. And when that failed, you found another way.” He closed his fingers around her neck. “Explain it all Mother!”
Ien’s rage fractured the air around him as he tightened his grip on her throat and squeezed.
“Ien.”
Yes, do it!
“I…can’t…breathe.”
Squeeze harder. Make her suffer.
“Please stop. I was protecting you.” Her voice was nothing more than a hollow whisper. “You have to believe me. Everything I’ve ever done was only to protect you.”
“I will never believe you.” Ien pulled the knife from his pocket and pressed it against her throat. A thin ribbon of blood trickled over his fingers.
“
Stop, Ien.” Two voices blended together, Mother’s. And Sister Anne’s. “Please.”
He shook his head, desperate to shake their voices.
“This isn’t you,” Sister Anne continued. “You’re not a murderer.”
Her words had no effect on him.
“Find Kiera,” she said. “Forget all of this. Before it’s too late.”
Kiera.
Her image appeared in his thoughts, calling him. Ien loosened his hold on the knife.
Don’t listen to her. Kill her now.
The sound of Erik’s voice boomed through Ien, along with a chorus of ‘yes’.
Do it for both of us.
Erik’s voice mixed with Kiera’s
Do it for me.
Ien’s fantasy urged him to act.
So we can have a life together again.
Ien stretched his neck and tightened his fingers around the knife once more.