FicWad

There was a rap upon the door. Christabel looked up from her quilting, brushing her long, burgundy hair from her emerald green eyes. She glanced at her mother, who wore a troubled expression. Veronica Boothe motioned for her daughter to fetch her sister, who was in the kitchen cleaning up after this evening's meal. Veronica set down her own part of their latest quilting project, rising as she did so. "Nathaniel," she called to her husband as she strode to the foot of the stairs, "There's someone at the door..."

Nathaniel Boothe quickly tread down the stairs leading to the loft, meeting his wife at the bottom. He glanced around to make sure that the other members of his family were present and safe inside the house. Afterward, he advanced toward the door and cracked it.

Before him stood a striking man, who appeared as though he could only be in his thirties. Shoulder blade-length, silvery-black hair fell into charcoal eyes and stood out upon his pale skin. He was much taller than Nathaniel, so much so that the latter had to raise his gaze slightly to have a better look at the former. The visitor smiled as he gracefully swept off his hat and black velvet cloak, offering them to Nathaniel as he greeted the stranger suspiciously and bade him to come away from the frigid autumn evening.

Nathaniel called for his youngest daughter Eleanor to bring his guest something to chase away his guest's chills, while Christabel mutely offered him her chair by the fireplace. She found him to be quite attractive and strangely elegant. She marveled as he situated himself to receive the optimal amount of heat from the flames. He gratefully that Eleanor proffered but did not drink it. Instead, he gazed into the blaze as if mesmerized.

After a period of silence, Nathaniel cleared his throat and spoke, "Well, what has brought you to our humble home this late in the evening, Mister...?"

The stranger appeared as though rudely awakened from awonderful dream. He twitched, a look of annoyance fleeting across his face as he gazed at the head of the Boothe family. It was as if he did not realize where he was, but he quickly recovered.

"My name is...Mathias," he meticulously said. His articulate manner sent shivers up Christabel's spine, "I have come to speak with you about your daughters."

Veronica and Nathaniel exchanged a concerned look. Eventually, Nathaniel turned his gaze towards his daughters, "I want you two to go upstairs and get ready for bed. Eleanor, don't worry about the rest of your chores. They can be done in the morning."

Christabel knew something serious was about to happen, but she obediently grabbed a lit candle and followed her sister, who held her own candle high so as not to trip in the shadows, upstairs to the garret. At the head of the stairs she hesitated, but she knew that her parents were waiting for them to begin their nightly routine before speaking again.

She sighed, letting her frustration out with it. This Mathias was probably another suitor. Being twenty-three, she knew that she needed to marry as soon as possible and start a family of her own. Every man who had been interested in her just seemed to have at least one important feature wrong with him. Either he was not very good-looking, or it was something that seemed menial to everyone else. She cringed to be so judgmental. She thanked God every day that her parents allowed her to have a say in who was to be her suitor; she knew that most women were not so fortunate.

This man, this Mathias, seemed attractive enough, but he was so much older than she was. She set her candle on the dresser, crossed the loft, and stood behind her sister, who had already occupied the space in front of the mirror, and commenced to brush out her hair in the flickering candlelight. All she really wanted was to stay with her mother and help her sell quilts. Christabel knew, however, that this was unrealistic. Well, at least this one is handsome...

Soon, both were in their shared bed and dozing in and out of sleep. Her parents were still talking with Mathias downstairs. What could possibly take so long to talk about? Christabel thought lazily as she slowed her body to drift into slumber, Why can't Mathias just come back in the morning?

~*~

In what seemed like only a few minutes, Christabel was awoken by shouts downstairs. Sitting up and looking around groggily, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced at her sister. She was still asleep, but then again, she had always been a heavy sleeper. Christabel listened for any noise coming from downstairs again. There was utter silence.

A noise on the stairs made Christabel jerk. Through the quivering light the fireplace gave off, she could see a figure at the head of the stairs. The captivating stranger, Mathias, was staring at the two girls. Without a word, he strode over to them and ripped the covers off the pair.

The roughness of the action caused Eleanor to stir. For a second, she looked at her sister and the newcomer in confusion; then, after realizing what was happening, she began to scream for her parents. Christabel maneuvered herself between Mathias and Eleanor and demanded, "What are you doing up here?"

"I've come to take you away," he said matter-of-factly. He effortlessly gathered up the two and hauled each respectively over a shoulder. Eleanor was still screaming. Mathias gazed at her upside-down face and frowned, "If you do not cease that infernal racket, I will be forced to quiet you. You do not wish for me to do that."

Mysteriously, all expression seemed to drain from Eleanor's face, and she quieted. Christabel, on the other hand, was struggling vigilantly. She was amazed by his grip, which seemed to be iron-tight. No matter how hard she wiggled and kicked, he held on with the same pressure, neither tightening nor relaxing. Mathias scolded her several times to stay put, but she refused to listen. After a few moments, he decided just to ignore her. Finally, he set her down after they had managed to trek down the stairs again. Eleanor stood tranquilly where Mathias had placed her, her face still possessing that blank appearance.

Christabel could see her mother slumped in a corner, apparently having fainted from whatever had transpired. She was horrified to see her father lying on the floor before her. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the gruesome sight. There was a pool of blood collecting around her father's head, which also met the edge of her mother's project. Someone, or something, had torn his throat apart so that his head was barely connected to the rest of his body. Christabel's eyes widened as she realized that the doll her mother had made for her fifth birthday was lying among the fabric. She dashed over to the pile, carefully avoiding her father's corpse, and scooped up the little doll. She clutched it close to her chest as a few tears escaped her control.

She jumped and dropped her beloved doll when asurprisingly gentle hand was placed upon her shoulder. She looked up to see Mathias standing behind her with a saddened look. "I am...truly sorry for your loss, dear one," he murmured, "but it was the only way in order for the two of you to leave with me tonight."

Rage gradually replaced the sadness within her, and she glowered at the intruder. "Leave with you?" she cried, her voice full of disdain, "What would make you think that my sister and I would ever/leave with you? Obviously, our father disapproved, and you /murdered him for it! You're a /monster/!" she screamed as she threw herself at Mathias, pounding him with her fists. He watched her with what seemed to be pity; then, to her bewilderment, he began to laugh.

"Foolish girl! Do you honestly think I care what your parents thought; much less whether you are willing to leave? I only asked /them/out of mere politeness! Now, stop your useless hitting, dry your eyes, and come along like a good little girl."

Christabel continued to glower at him as he strode toward the door and opened it. He again called for her to 'come along,' as well as commanding Eleanor to follow him. Eleanor immediately staggered behind him, with that confounded glazed look on her face! It was as if... It was as if he had brainwashed her into following his commands.

With that thought, Christabel flew at Mathias again, striking him with all the strength she could muster.

"Witch! Devil-worshipper!"

He gave a small grunt and glanced askance at her before grabbing her shoulders. "I wish I didn't have to do this, but you leave me no choice," he said.

"Devil's child! Demon! Witch!"

Without warning, he commenced to throw her into the nearest wall. His sheer strength once again stunned Christabel; this was her last thought before her head connected with the wall. Everything faded to black.