414 Burying for oneself
Eve stared at Marceline, who looked torn and in pain. She already knew the truth, and so did Vincent, as it was only several minutes before Alfie knocked upon her door that she had relayed the information about what Timotei had told her.
She had come across bad people, but Marceline topped everyone in the list. This vampiress was conceited, arrogant and selfish.
Vincent stared back at Marceline and said, “If the curse that fell on you is because of a backfire, it can still be treated. But if it isn’t, we’ll end up wasting time. Speak, Marceline.”
Marceline finally spilled the truth by agreeing to her brother in a whisper, “Yes… Yes, it is a backfired curse.”
Lady Annalise, who stood next to Marceline, turned away and walked to another side of the room, as if she couldn’t believe Marceline could had fallen to such levels. Eduard Viscount said, “You have been lying to us, Marceline. What happened to you? When you were a child, I forgave you with the thought that you were young and mischievous. That you lost your mother, but now…” he shook his head.
pAnDa (nov)e1 Marceline lowered her head in shame. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t walk out of the room with just one of her legs. Her hands clenched.
Lady Annalise hardened her heart and said, “Is it possible to get a witch to fix it?”
Vincent didn’t stop staring at Marceline as if wondering how far she was willing to get back her fangs when she was only digging her grave further. Marceline turned to look at him in question of why he hadn’t moved to get a witch, “One last question, Marcie. Whom did you try to curse?”
“I… I was only trying to track the person who had a hand in getting back Allie’s fangs. I know that someone helped her get her fangs!” Marceline burst another time, where her calm and polite behaviour was long out of the window.
Viscount Eduard pinched the bridge of his nose as the disappointment that continued to pile up with regard to his elder daughter. He already knew who was responsible for Allie’s fangs, and now that his son heard this from Marceline, he knew there was nothing he could do. Marceline was far gone than he had imagined.
Vincent’s eyes turned darker and colder as he stared at Marceline. He said,
“You thought someone helped Allie with her fangs, and you were ready to harm that person. Not because you wanted to track, but because you were furious, weren’t you? Guess what, dear sister. Unfortunately, a witch cannot fix your foot back because it is separated from your leg. Don’t you wish that you never went to the witch and instead slept in your bed that night?”
Marceline’s lips trembled, and she shook her head, “I didn’t mean harm, I only wanted my fangs back,” tears started to spill again from her eyes. She couldn’t think straight anymore.
“If the witch’s curse meant no harm, you wouldn’t be in this condition would you, Marceline?” Vincent asked his sister, who sobbed. “But don’t worry. We share the same blood and you are my sister, I would not let any more harm befall on you,” his voice held a certain coldness, and he ordered the butler, “Alfie, bring the saw. We’ll heat it here in the fireplace. Also bring alcohol.”
The remaining colour in Marceline’s fell from her face, and she looked at Vincent in horror.
“No! No!” Marceline vigorously shook her head, “I refuse to do it!”
“Alfie,” Vincent glowered at the butler, who had stood there with a shocked expression.
“Yes, Sire!” Alfie quickly ran from there.
“Father! Mother! Please don’t do this to me!” Marceline pleaded with her parents. “No one will want to marry me! Don’t do this to me, there must be another way! The person who helped Allie—”
“The infection will only spread if we don’t try to stop it, Marceline,” Viscount Eduard said to his daughter. “If you had told us right away when this happened. We could have saved… more of your leg.”
“How could you go and ask for a witch’s help, Marcie?” Lady Annalise asked in anger..
“Because no one would help me here! My family didn’t help me and I had to look for help outside my home!” Marceline said, half angry and half sobbing.
Everyone in the room noticed that Marceline felt no remorse over her actions. She ignored her faults and blamed them on everyone else when she was the one who had dug her troubles deeper every single time.
When Alfie returned with a saw, he handed the bottle of alcohol to Vincent who poured the liquor on the metal before having the butler heat the metal in the fireplace.
“I will not be amputated! I will kill myself before it!” Marceline picked the closest sharp object, the hairpin, and placed it above her heart. Vincent rolled his eyes at his dramatic sister.
“Don’t act foolishly, Marceline. Unless you want your entire body to fall apart in slow death?” Viscount Eduard warned her harshly.
Vincent didn’t bother with her act, knowing how much Marceline loved herself and her life.
His eyes briefly moved to look at Eve, and their eyes met. Sharing words in an unspoken way. It was ironic, how the person who could have helped his sister with her foot and everything else, Marceline, had tried to curse the same person. His sister was stupid, and he sighed,
“Alfie. Is it ready?”
“Almost, Sire,” the butler replied.
Vincent uncorked the alcohol bottle and walked closer to where Marceline sat on the floor. He said in a whisper, “Don’t worry, sister. I will cut it gently, and make it as painless as I can.”
Vincent poured the alcohol on Marceline’s right leg that was still bleeding a little. Fat tears rolled down her eyes, falling on her lap when she heard the butler’s footsteps approaching them.
“Sire,” Alfie offered the burning metal to Vincent.
Marceline watched Vincent take the saw in his hands. Her hands clenched. When he brought the hot saw downwards near her leg, she closed her eyes while biting her lip with tears running down her face.