Part XII: Pianoforte
They dumped Pedrolino on the doorstep, pulled the bell and ran away like naughty schoolboys, Will hooting with laughter when they were safely out of earshot.
‘That was fun!’ He’d gone into demon face, probably without realising it, and was grinning like a gleeful imp. ‘Would’a been more fun if we’d killed him, but still—’
‘I told you, sometimes it is better not to—’
‘Yeh, yeh. I got it, mate. Sir. I understand.’ Will shook his head, dropping the demon and bringing out a cigarette. ‘Still would’a been fun,’ he muttered. ‘So what now?’
‘Now we go home and you go to bed, it’s well past your bedtime.’
That produced another mutter as he cupped his hands to his mouth over a match. ‘I meant with these Impresario buggers.’ He flicked the match away and blew out a long plume of smoke. ‘You expecting them to retaliate or what?’
‘No.’ Angelus yanked Will away from the turning that led directly home. With half his attention he was still concentrating on what lay behind and above them, trying to gauge if they were being followed. Angelus wondered if he should explain the intricacies, explain how with a dishonourably broken tusk, the wounded Pedrolino to deal with and several of his lieutenants dead, most of Harmonia’s authority would be lost and the Impresarios be too involved in internal power squabbles to mount an effective threat.
He looked back over his shoulder and again he felt a ripple of unease. He could neither smell nor hear anything following and yet the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling.
‘That’s it? “No.” That’s all I get? Can’t you at least—’
‘Be quiet, boy. And get rid of that cigarette.’
‘Bloody hell! I’m not allowed to smoke indoors, I’m not allowed to— Hey!’
Angelus crushed the cigarette and threw it as far away from them as possible, but it was no good, the scents were still disrupted, tangled into a warm fug by the tobacco smoke and the lingering brightness of Pedrolino’s blood.
‘What did you do that for?’ Will demanded.
‘Will you be quiet.’
Will gave him a glare and a further mutter, shoving his hands in his pockets. Angelus took them down another detour, doubling back so he could pause and check the way they had come. Nothing. And Will was at last maintaining what he doubtless considered a pointed silence.
‘Did you follow me a few nights ago?’
‘No!’ Will’s outrage was too emphatic and Angelus eyed him. Will looked distinctly guilty and then immediately tried to look innocent, something he always did very badly.
‘You did follow me.’
‘No sir!’
‘I saw you, boy – your shadow by the market place.’
‘It wasn’t me, Angelus.’
‘Wasn’t it? That had better be true, because if you think you can desert your post and presume to follow your sire…’
‘I didn’t, sir. Why would I?’ And he did look genuinely baffled.
‘You didn’t move from your post?’
‘N-no, sir.’ Now that was a lie, without a shadow of a doubt. Angelus tensed and Will immediately dodged round to the far side of an over-ornamented municipal horse-trough the citizens had been stupid enough to leave in the middle of the street. ‘I didn’t, sir.’
‘You left the whore, didn’t you. Of course you did.’
Angelus edged left and Will skipped a pace to the right. ‘No.’
If he tried to grab Will over the trough he’d probably fall flat in the scummy water. Or they could keep circling the thing all night if need be.
‘When did you ever have the discipline to do as you were told?’
‘Didn’t take my eyes off her.’
Angelus counted slowly to twenty in his head, never letting his glare relax for a second. Will was glancing from side to side as if considering making a run for it. How could Will be so stupid? He’d been told time and time again yet still the message never got through.
‘Boy, she is using you. Whatever she has said, whatever she has done to persuade you, Darla is using you for her own purpose.’
Will shook his head vehemently.
‘You left the river and you followed me to the cathedral. And now—’
‘Pub.’
‘What?’
‘I went to the pub. I’m sorry, sir. I know I shouldn’t have but it was just so bloody cold. And I didn’t think it would matter for just a little bit. It didn’t matter – the whore never went anywhere. She was already too addled to move, so I just slipped off for a minute. I went straight back.’ He stood up straight and braced his shoulders. ‘I know you’re going to thrash me for it but it didn’t make any difference. And it was nothing to do with—’
‘Oh be quiet.’ Angelus walked away.
So if not Will watching him, then who? Surely if it had been Darla herself he would have sensed her at once. On a cold night the scents were deadened, as if frozen in place. If she had wanted to follow him it was a good time of year. But even so, they had hunted together for over a hundred years, he knew her every move, the way she thought, the way she acted. Surely she couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes? Surely not after all this time?
There was the patter of boots behind him – Will, running to catch up.
‘Sir…’
She wanted to go back to London. Theatres, shops, parties, keeping the minions in line, the never-ending struggle for territory, ensuring the family name was never ever brought into disrepute.
‘Sir, I didn’t—’
‘Right, you’re going to play the piano for me.’
‘What? No I’m not!’ Will ducked the cuff, moving exactly the way Angelus expected him to and giving an outraged yelp when Angelus caught his ear and twisted.
‘Yes you are. Unless you want the beating you’re due in the parlour, in front of Darla and Dru.’ He pulled so Will rose up on his toes with a gasp. ‘And I will still make you play afterwards.’
He set off for the house at a brisk pace. Providing he twisted his ear and dealt out a few cuffs every now and then, Will trotted along as tamely as a dog on a lead at his side. The cursing wasn’t entirely acceptable but one couldn’t have everything. Will followed obediently up the street to their front-door and into the hall, where Angelus pulled himself up to his full height, transferred his grip to a gentle pressure on Will’s shoulder, and opened the parlour door.
Not that Darla even deigned to look up when they came in.
‘We’re back, darling. It all went perfectly. And now Will and I have plotted a little treat for you. Something of a celebration. There you are, Will.’ He prodded Will towards the piano, then headed to take up his position in front of the fire. Will was rubbing his ear and scowling down at the piano stool as if he wanted to chop it up for kindling. Angelus casually patted at the pocket where he kept the strap and Will sat down with a thump.
‘What do you want me to play?’
Darla was still feigning indifference.
‘You are forgetting your honorifics, Will. Don’t.’
‘What do you want me to play, sire.’
Angelus looked steadily at Darla. ‘Chopin. Darla likes Chopin.’
She looked at him at last, coldly, her face wrung with contempt.
‘I don’t know any Chopin.’
‘Well then play something you do know,’ Angelus snapped, still holding eye contact with Darla. Beyond her, he could see Will stare at the keyboard for a moment and then start to pick out the notes.
The tune was recognisable – something by Beethoven, the same thing he’d once heard him playing for Dru, but Will was hammering the notes without interest or feeling. The sort of playing any well-brought-up boy could produce if he’d been given one lesson a week and practiced when he’d been made to.
‘Delightful, William,’ Darla said.
‘Yes, Darla, we had a very enjoyable evening, thank you for asking. The Impresarios are no longer a threat and we had a little fun along the way. Most satisfactory.’
She said nothing. Will plonked his way slowly through what should have been a playful cascade of sound.
‘An interesting thought occurred to me though.’ He stared at her, watching her mask for the slightest crack. ‘I keep thinking I’m being watched – you know how it is, your sixth sense tells you, only there’s nothing there when you stop to check so you think you must be mistaken. But then a little later there it is, screaming at you again that something’s wrong.’
Darla sat primly, hands folded in her lap, green eyes fixed on Will.
‘I thought it was the Impresarios.’
She blinked once, slowly.
‘Then I thought it was Will.’
Will immediately stopped, staring at his hands and avoiding Angelus’s glare.
Angelus snapped his fingers. ‘Keep playing, boy.’
‘I can’t remember the rest.’
‘Don’t lie to me. And lighter, Will. Lighter! Don’t crack the notes as if you’re punching them… better.’
Will paused over a bar’s rest and looked at him as if he thought he was mad, then carried on, still hopelessly stiff and clumsy.
‘Perhaps he would do better if you didn’t cane his hands like a schoolboy,’ Darla said, her tone calm and even.
‘I will cane him any way I please.’
‘Stop, William, and come here.’
‘Do not stop, William.’
Will already had stopped and he was left uncertainly on the edge of his stool, looking between them.
‘Come here, boy,’ Darla snapped and Will shot over to her.
‘Now show me your hands.’
‘My…?’ Will gave Angelus an alarmed look but Darla simply seized his wrists and turned his hands palm upwards. Angelus looked away, feigning boredom, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of Will’s perfectly unmarked skin.
Darla didn’t pause. She clucked like a concerned mother hen. ‘Look at these. You poor, poor boy. Nobody could play properly with hands like these.’ And turning his palms this way and that, peering at them closely, she began cooing and fussing over them. ‘Look at these great black welts! You might as well have had a branding iron stamped on them. They must be so painful, poor little thing. Really, you cane him far too often and far too hard, Angelus. Did you lick them, Will?’
‘Er… yes, madam?’
Angelus snorted. Will normally only addressed Darla as madam when he had no choice.
She produced her handkerchief, spat on it and began to rub Will’s palms. Judging from Will’s wince she was making it hurt.
‘Angelus, you really shouldn’t cane him like this.’ She said without the slightest beat of sarcasm. ‘What if he needed to climb?’
Angelus matched her, tone for tone. ‘Oh, you want me to molly-coddle him?’
‘Of course not.’ She spat on her handkerchief again and started on the other hand, grabbing Will’s wrist when he tried to pull it away from her. ‘I want you, Angelus, to treat him like a reasonable, intelligent, person.’ And she finally looked directly at him.
Angelus waited, whilst Will fidgeted nervously and Darla just held Will’s wrist and glared at Angelus.
‘Come here.’
Will came to him at once, yanking his hand free of Darla to do so and shaking it as he went. ‘It was days ago,’ he said angrily. ‘Of course there’s nothing left to see. They only last four or five days when you’re human.’ All of this was ostensibly directed at the floor.
Darla was still glaring.
Will stood in front of him, looking utterly miserable, and Angelus set a hand on his neck, drawing him a little closer. ‘Whose are you?’
‘Yours, sir.’
‘Mine.’ He smiled down at Will and, tentatively, Will returned it.
‘And who do you trust to make the decisions for this family?’
‘You sir.’
Angelus bent over and kissed him on the lips, a light brush of cool skin against his own, the sudden quiver under his hands as Will tensed. Then he pulled back, still smiling, and ruffled his hair. ‘Silly little boy.’
‘Not little, and not a boy,’ Darla said.
Will’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes I am,’ he hissed. And he whirled round to face her. ‘All my bloody life you’ve called me nothing but “little” and “boy”, only suddenly you want him to treat me differently because you want something. Well I don’t care what you want, you silly bitch, I’m tired of—’
He must have been expecting it but he still squeaked in surprise when Angelus’s hand clamped across his mouth.
Angelus heard the bones creak, the tendons protest as he jerked Will’s head back, felt him shake under his fingers as he pressed his fangs to Will’s throat, felt the skin quiver and dip under him as he pressed, the scent of fear rich in his nostrils. Will froze, and stood still and unprotesting as very slowly Angelus bit in.
He didn’t take much, just three, long pulls. Enough that Will must feel it tugging at his heart. Enough for him to feel the anger. Enough to fill his own mouth with salt sweet iron. And then he pulled away and thrust Will from him.
Will stumbled, recovered, stood still, eyes cast down.
‘Do you want him beaten, Darla?’ Angelus asked, reaching for the strap.
She waited a moment, whilst Will stared at the floor, his hands clenched at his sides. Then she shook her head.
‘Get out,’ Angelus said.
When he was gone, Angelus looked at Darla. For a moment he almost said something – something that would probably sound like an apology. Something…
‘I will kill him,’ Darla said. ‘I will find him, Angelus, and I will kill him. And then this will be over.’ She didn’t mean Will.
He turned and left, banging the door after himself.