[Worm]

As night had fallen into midnight, and midnight into the witching hour, all were in the throws of sleep. All except Elizabeth. Flint was as dark as it could ever be. No candle flickered, no horse neighed. In the bathtub still soaked in Blanche's blood, Elizabeth stewed. Her mind was a palace, and within it, she planned.

Her milky white skin was submerged in a broth of lavender and sage. Her eyes were open, unblinking and focused as Rose and Lilian rolled handfuls of water over Elizabeth's shoulders. The warm water sizzled and steamed off of her infernal skin. It was in this state that she would wander into the dreams of Flint, and specifically, Isabel's. With William under her control completely, she could dive into the mind and heart of his lover. His lover.

The pangs of living so dreadfully long made this process like excavating bodies from a warzone. How could Emily find herself drawn to the man that raped and wed her as a child? The man who pushed her into suicidality, who took her from the only person who loved and cherished her? Elizabeth leapt from the bathtub. Water splashed onto Rose's face as she did so. Her stoic, and lanky frame made its way out of the tub. Water followed her but steamed and dried the instant it hit the ground. Though still nude, Elizabeth was already dry.

She pinned her hair up, Rose and Lilian following behind. "Milady, what troubles you?" Rose trembled beneath her breath. "May we service you in any way?" Lilian too spoke up.

"This is a job for Master William. If you will fetch him." No eye contact necessary. With a forceful push, her hair was bound into a tight top bun, held up with a long pin.

"Certainly." And with no effort whatsoever, the concubines were gone. In a matter of moments, William was between them and at Elizabeth's side.

"Now leave us." She shooed the ladies away, who dipped their heads in respect and shuffled off, closing a bedroom door behind them.

Elizabeth, now in a sheer robe, looked over William. He stood, barely conscious, struggling to keep his eyes from the illustrious body in front of him. Her hip bones dove into the fabric, so close to Elizabeth's skin that - He pulled away, trying to avoid causing any more problems with his new master.

"Do you like my body, Mister William?" She cooed. Her voice was like silk, and his mind was so warped that it melted like butter at her advances. He didn't respond. "Do you?" She grinned, lifting the edge of the already short robe, to reveal the top of her thigh. William couldn't help but glance. He wiped his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. "Well?" Her breath on his shoulder, he could feel hairs stand on his neck.

"You see. Believe it or not... Not so long ago, you were the one pursuing me." She buzzed, stroking the side of his cheek, stubble scratching her palm. "The blood of a virgin. You took it. You drank it." She smiled into each word, which then bubbled into a lunatic's laugh. "Do you not remember? Mister Igor De'Rossi." She paused, wondering if his past name would stick. If maybe the stench of his past would rise from the dead. She covered his eyes with slender hands, and he did little to budge. "You took the soul of the woman I love."

"Isabel." His tone dropped as he said her name.

"Isabel..." Elizabeth repeated, a tear fell from her cheek an onto his shoulder. With her hands still against his eyes, she felt him too hold back tears.

"I won't allow you to have her. This is the price you must pay for your transgressions." She lifted her hands from his eyes. One finger pressed hard against his forehead, and she was gone.

"If this is how I..." William fell to his knees in complete and utter sorrow. "Oh Isabel." He wept in the fetal position for what seemed hours. Sunlight poured into the bedroom where he lay. It was the orange and red of dusk, and he knew what needed to be done.