Tragedy in Black and White

EDITED 01-06-06: Typos, grammer, commas, and one HUGE edit: I MISTYPED Belvedere's age! He is nineteen, NOT thirteen!

[This story clearly influenced one I wrote while working on it titled "There is No Escape." Please feel free to give me comments, advice, or correct typos ('cause I know there are a few.)]

         The blue moon rose that year with an interesting mark upon its features. And with it, a series of murders came. Its light lingered for days. The tale of its shadow went like this:

          “’Blood Stains the Streets.’” The graying servant turned to his young Master. “What a wonderful headline to wake up to. Can you believe this? There hasn’t been a murder here in thirteen years!”
          “I know.” Belvedere tossed his hair, brown with single streak of black, and leaned forward in the chair he was straddling. The boots that laced up to his knees clicked against the floor. “I remember the last murders, Adam.”
         The butler flinched. “Oh, right.” He read Belvedere the article in his hand and showed him the gruesome picture that went with it. A man, out for a jog to enjoy the night air, had been found with a stab wound in his chest, but with no sign of his murderer or the weapon.
          “It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?” Adam said.
         Belvedere stood, finished with the last button on his white shirt, and tucked it into his slacks. “Why, because it’s out of the ordinary? Try not to let change scare you. It is inevitable, after all.”
          “You’re right, but murder is a big deal, Belvedere. Be careful when you’re out today, alright?”
          “Of course.” Belvedere lifted a rose from the table beside him, the surface of which was black glass. “These will be wilted in a few days... Have a good day, Adam. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
         Leaving the plant on the table, the handsome gray-eyed youth made his way to the door. He slid his black trenchcoat onto his shoulders, where it hung to just above his ankles. One the back a hunched skeleton grinned, holding a scythe in its crooked hands. Written next to it in Roman Numerals was thirteen, beneath that, ‘La Morte.’
          “Master Belvedere.”
         He turned to be handed a black umbrella. “Right, the rain.” He sighed a little. “How could I forget?”

         The rain was an accepted part of life for everyone, including Belvedere. It began when the sun would have risen and ended at the time of sunset, a steady and chilling downpour. None asked why, nor did they question how the clouds fled at night. Life went on.
         His coat and boots waterproof, Belvedere had always been fine with the water than fell around him each day. It ran down the gray, brick-paved streets in miniature rivers and into the lake that bordered one side of town. Today, Belvedere was mostly alone. A slight chill and the sudden murder kept all but the most methodical indoors.
         Dodging as a pool of water slid and crashed off an awning, Belvedere sought shelter inside a cozy little coffeeshop. The owner and only one working that day, a frail looking man, greeted him warmly.
          “Need a quick break from all that water, Belvedere?”
         "I just managed to avoid a drenching from your roof, actually. Of course that water would decide to fall the instant I closed my umbrella.”
          “That’s how fate works, you know.”
          “Or maybe bad luck." Belvedere smiled as he rested his umbrella near the door. "So how’s business?”
          “Slow as usual, but what with this amazing news I’m afraid it could get a lot worse.”
         Belvedere’s gaze caught the newspaper on the counter, the exact same story he had heard that morning. He sighed. “I promised you your business wouldn’t go under, no matter what happens. I meant that.” He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry.”
          “I still don’t get what motivated you to put money into the businesses around here.”
         Belvedere, shrugged, smiling. “I wanted to, and besides, I can afford it. We can be certain that’s one thing my parents left me.”
         Handing him steaming coffee in a styrofoam cup, his friend said, “They were good people; you’ve clearly inherited that.”
         Belvedere chuckled, hiding a slight flair of grief that rose within him. “Thanks.” He reached into his pocket.
          “I’ve got it, Belvedere.”
          “No, I’ll pay for it.” He placed a few bills on the counter, more than enough. “It’s the principal of the thing, you understand.”
         The owner shook his head as Belvedere made his way out. “How can you be only nineteen?”
          “Lucky I guess,” Belvedere called. The awning nearly soaked him again.

         The sound of falling rain had all but lulled Alenna to sleep as the glassy surface of the lake, heartless and empty, stared back at her like a tired friend. The breeze off the water brushed her knee-length black skirt against her legs, its chill keeping her from sleep. The crimson silk scarf at her neck hung nearly into her lap, and her black hair fell neatly around her shoulders, sheltering her on each side.
         She shivered, only to feel a friendly hand rest briefly on her shoulder. “I believe I’ve seen you sitting out here before, Scarlet,” Belvedere said, sitting next to her on the sheltered bench that gave a view of the lake.
         Alenna gave him a confused look, having seen him a few times but never having actually met him until that moment. “What?"
         He smiled. “I called you Scarlet because of your shirt.”
She wore a black, fitted shirt with a red grandfather clock on the back, its hands pointing at twelve. It red ‘… unmask,’ and Alenna smiled knowing Belvedere had understood the reference.
          “I’ve seen you before too,” she said. “I’m Alenna.”
          “And I am Belvedere.” He shook her hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, as though he had been hearing about her for months rather than seeing her a few times in passing. “Do you mind if I call you Scarlet?”
          “Go ahead. It’s… interesting.”
         Belvedere nodded. “Why are you sitting out here, anyway? Aren’t you cold?”
         Scarlet shrugged. “I like to have a place to think away from home. Here is as good a place as any. It’s peaceful, don’t you think?”
         Belvedere looked out over the lake. “It looks depressing to me. It’s lonely, gripping.” He watched her gaze fall at his words, a hint of color rising in her cheeks.
          “I’ve seen you standing at the lake’s edge,” he said, a gentle tone in his voice. “It’s not deep enough, you know, not here.”
         Scarlet colored further. “What?”
          “The water isn’t deep enough to commit suicide. You’d just end up in the hospital with hypothermia, and besides, we’ve just met.” Standing behind her, Belvedere leaned over her shoulder. “I’d like to get to know you before I have to cry for you. It will get better.” He put his coffee in her hands, warming them. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Scarlet.”
         Stunned, Scarlet let the steam rise into her face and the tears fall down her cheeks.

         The next morning, a man was found pinned to his bedroom wall with a knife protruding from his chest. The skull-shaped shadow on the moon had seen it all.
         Reading of this in the paper, Belvedere decided he would buy two black roses to honor the dead. As he donned his coat to go out, Adam said to him,
          “Why don’t you take this with you?” He gave Belvedere a silver-hilted rapier encased in a blue sheath, one that bore the emblem of a white rose and sword.
          “The family blade? Adam…”
          “You’re impossibly skilled with it, and you’ve always been so fond of this blade. It’s about time you wore it, anyway. I polished it for you, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
         Belvedere was speechless. The heirloom was priceless to him, and he was embarrassed that Adam knew him so well. He had known the man his entire life; their friendship was always there when he needed it. “Thank you, Adam. And don’t worry, alright? I’ll be safe out there.”
          “I’ll see you later.” Adam pushed him out the door and gave him no choice but to take the sword with him. “Kids.” He smiled.

          “I’m glad to see you again, Scarlet.”
         The rain clinked lightly against Belvedere’s sheath as he shifted his umbrella to shelter her.
          “Belvedere…” She turned to him, rainwater trailing off her face. Today she wore a white scarf, matching her ruffled shirt. Her attire was oddly close to Belvedere’s, who always dressed formally beneath his trenchcoat. She noticed there was a withered white rose pinned to his collar and two black ones in his free hand.
          “I wanted to ask you…”
          “Yes?” Belvedere appeared oblivious to the rain falling on him, even though it carried an icy bite.
         Scarlet stared at the ground. After a moment she whispered, “How did you know what I was going to do yesterday?”
         She spoke so quickly that Belvedere had to pause in order to decipher what she had said. “Oh, that. To be honest, that was little more than a guess, drawn from what I’ve seen of you.” He sighed. “It is saddening to know I was right. Can I do anything to help?”
          “Why should you care? It’s none of your business,” she said.
         Belvedere stepped so that he stood at her side, sharing the umbrella. “I care about people. I guess it’s in my nature, but I won’t ask if you don’t want me to.”
          “It’s nice to know someone cares, and… thank you for not asking. I should be going home,” she said, a heavy tone in her voice. In the distance a clock rang three, followed by musical, yet haunting chimes from the church.
          “Will I see you here tomorrow, perhaps?” Belvedere shifted his gaze from the street before the lake that had again been their meeting place. As he spoke he put his hand on her arm, then pretended not to notice her wince and softened his hold. He bit back the urge to ask.
         Scarlet was flattered by his attention in a shy sort of way. “Perhaps,” she said, uncertain herself. Belvedere thought she looked more upset then. “Goodbye, Belvedere.”
         She left him holding the umbrella, a puzzled look on his face.

         Three nights brought three more murders, each a little more violent than the last. Three more roses on Belvedere’s table were replaced with roses of black, and three short encounters between him and Scarlet found him concerned for her, thinking about her odd actions when he had a spare moment. He thought she enjoyed his company, hoped that she did, but by the end of their talks she was always distant, almost silent.
         With his boots on the table and his chair leaning back, Belvedere thought about her as his dinner grew cold beside him.
         Adam watched him for a moment as he passed through the room. “What are you thinking about, Kid?”
         Somewhat absent in that moment, Belvedere said, “Her eyes are so blue…”
         Adam laughed. “I’ve lost him.”
          “What does that mean?”
          “I think you’re falling, Belvedere.”
         The youth put his hand on the table to prevent the chair from tipping backwards. “Not yet.”
          “That’s not what I meant.”
          “I know what you meant,” Belvedere said, “but let me think about it, alright?” He chuckled. “This is new.”
         Adam rested his hand on Belvedere’s shoulder for a moment as he walked out. “Don’t be afraid of the new, right Master Belvedere?”
         Belvedere smiled and stared at his roses. While he considered his emotions the sound of the rain overhead lessened. Night approached.

         The papers claimed the killer was simply becoming more comfortable with his habit when the next murder found two night policemen covered in their own blood, no weapon left behind. They could only speculate on the reason for these murders; all were clean, quick kills, far from sadistic. Otherwise motive-less, the kills continued.
         Bits of ice began to fall with the rain that day. When night fell, the killer chose his target by the candle that glimmered in the window, the only light in the dark. Four stories up between white silk curtains, it set that apartment apart. He did not choose it because it would be easy, nor was it a desire to make all around him the same by eliminating what stood out. It only made looking for a victim easier.
         He slipped in the front door and climbed the stairs, silent and casual. At the fourth floor he counted doors until he found the one he wanted. As he suspected, whoever had been absent enough to leave a candle burning had also left the door unlocked. He closed it behind him.
         He paid no attention to the apartment itself, direct in the way, without pause, he found the bedroom with the candle in the window. He knelt over the girl sleeping there, shifted his weapon into his left hand, and extinguished the flame with his right. Then, he resumed his purpose.
         In the dark he could not quite make out her features, but they did not matter. He brushed aside the sheets to expose her shoulder, where he would hold her to keep her from moving. He could not have his blade miss and put her in pain, even for an instant. That was not what he wanted.
         But as he touched her, she shifted in her sleep. The haunting blue moonlight fell over her. He paused. There were bruises at her neck in the shape of someone’s hand. The sight of them held him, then brought him back to himself.
         To avoid dropping it, he sheathed the White Rose Rapier. “Scarlet?”
         Belvedere’s whisper was heavy with disbelief. His palm met her cheek, his chest the victim of a sympathetic tightening. “Alenna? This is what… but who could?”
         Aware that she was waking, he left as quickly and quietly as he had come, locking the door behind him.

         Morning brought a hesitant sense of relief when no body was found. They hoped it was over. Out only for a moment on that peaceful day as the weather grew colder, Belvedere smiled when he saw her.
          “Scarlet, good morning.”
          “Same to you, Belvedere.” She was dressed in a ruffled shirt and long black skirt, with a black scarf to match. Now that he knew why she wore it, Belvedere was careful to keep his gaze from it. He focused instead on her smile, glad to see it.
          “I wish I could talk with you right now, Scarlet.” He brushed a few stray locks away from her cheek. “There is a broken stained glass window in my father’s old library and I want to oversee the repair. Would you…” He shook his head, changing his question. “Take care of yourself, alright? It’s frigid out here this time of the morning.”
         Scarlet nodded and lowered her gaze, feeling shy. She noticed he had a dozen red roses in his hand. “What are those for?”
          “Green house grown or not,” Belvedere said, “these will be hard to come by soon. I had to celebrate not buying a black one today.”
          “I-I should go…You’re busy.” Scarlet turned.
          “Alenna, wait.” Holding her attention, he extended the roses to her. “They’re for you.”
         She was too surprised not to accept them. “For me?”
          “Yes. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight.” The waver in his voice showed he was just as nervous as she was.
          “I’m sorry,” she said, “I wish I could, but… I can’t.”
          “That’s alright.” He was disappointed, but she seemed to feel the same. His spirits were not dampened. Belvedere also caught the familiar distant look in her eyes. He gave her his umbrella. “You know where I am if you change your mind.” He winked. “Don’t stay out. I don’t want you to get sick.”
         She nodded and went on her way.

         In dark, serene silence Belvedere let his thoughts unwind. Curtains blocked the cursed moonlight. Somewhere in the shadows of the room a clock ticked out every passing second, keeping its vigil without interrupting Belvedere’s peace.
         Shortly after the clock announced the hour with nine crystal tones, Adam knocked and pulled Belvedere out of his revere. “Sorry to bother you, Master Belvedere… but there’s a young woman here. I told her it’s far too late to be visiting…”
          “No, I invited her.” Belvedere rose, taking off his trenchcoat. “Let her in, please. I was holding on to the hope that she’d show.”
         A sudden wellspring of curiosity, Adam nodded and hurried to let her in. They met near the table that bore the black roses.
          “Adam,” Belvedere said, “this is Alenna. Scarlet, this is Adam, a long-time friend of my family.”
          “Scarlet is fine,” she said, shaking Adam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
          “The same to you, young lady.” He hugged her in greeting. “Here,” he said, pulling out a chair, “you kids sit.”
         Belvedere took her hand. “Will you still have dinner with me?”
         Scarlet chuckled. “This late?”
          “I haven’t eaten yet.” He left out that he had kept his meal waiting in the kitchen, hoping to dine with her. Instead, he traced his fingers over her hand.
          “I…” Scarlet hesitated, then smiled. “I’ll join you then.”
         Afterwards, Belvedere poured them each a glass of wine, walking close to Scarlet as they toured the mansion he had inherited. Climbing a set of stairs, they paused in front of a wooden, white door bearing a crest: a white rose and blade entwined with a black dragon whose fangs were tinted red.
          “Families haven’t had crests or mottoes for…”
          “Generations,” Belvedere said, “but through my father’s ancestors ours have endured. The motto is, ‘Death is preferable to loss of innocence.’” He tapped on the door. “This is my room, but let me show you the library.”
         He led her further upwards and through a hallway where the electric lighting had been abandoned for candelabras. Though Belvedere had not noticed Adam’s presence since dinner, he knew the old man was responsible for the romantic atmosphere. It embarrassed him, the lengths Adam went to, but he took the thought in stride. He would have to thank him later.
         The library was as massive as some people’s homes, the walls lined with books on shelves nearly twelve feet high. The floors were carpeted in a fading white, the walls painted a gentle gray. The endless rows of shelves were intimidating to Scarlet; she could not imagine navigating them in search of something.
          “This was my father’s, as I told you this morning,” Belvedere said, untangling a length of white cord that kept a velvet curtain over a window that rested over everything, nearly twenty feet up. “He could find anything you wanted on those shelves.” He sighed. “I couldn’t even being to try. Mother couldn’t either.”
         Scarlet stepped closer to him. “You miss them.”
          “Of course I do.” His voice shook for an instant. He was not afraid to let his emotions show near her. “But I like to think, in some way, they’re still here.”
         He pulled the cord and the curtain lifted. Moonlight flowed into the room, shifted into tones of black, pure white, and normally into a pale blue, but nature's odd moon provided that hue. On the glass a serpentine dragon twisted, clutching a white rose in its claws. White blossoms were its background on a field of blue.
          “I hope you understand why I had to take care of this when we met this morning,” Belvedere said, his voice hushed. “When my parents… died, I came across their plans for this. I was too young to complete it at the time, but it is here now.”
         Scarlet was in awe of the fragile piece of art. Also holding her attention was the way Belvedere seemed to become unsound beneath the force of his grief.
         Leaving the window exposed so it would light the otherwise shadow-laden library, Belvedere dropped himself into a chair. Scarlet sat next to him, watching him for a moment. “I’m sorry for this,” he said at last. “I thought I could show you…” He avoided her gaze. “I wanted to show you.”
         She shook her head. “It’s alright. Do you want to talk about it? I’ll listen, Belvedere.”
          “There isn’t much to tell. I was six years old.” He had never told anyone the story before. Those who knew it did not mention it. Among those who knew, Adam had watched Belvedere deny his pain his entire life. Except in that moment, Belvedere would do so for the rest of his life.
          “It was the blue moon, like it is now,” he said. “Some crazed man at the point of simple desperation…” Though he could not hold back the tears, he was quiet as they fell. “…murdered my parents.” Scarlet’s gasp did not stop him. “I've been told that I saw the whole thing, but I can’t recall it if I did. I must have.” He calmed a little, breathing deeply. “Even now certain things put blanks into my memory. I forget them or lose some awareness to protect myself. But… you’re the only one who knows that, Alenna.”
         Sympathy brought tears to her eyes. Seeing them, Belvedere regained his composure and rose. He then knelt before her and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Scarlet.” Her nickname came off his lips again now that he was calmed. “My problem should not burden you.”
         She denied such a thought. “It makes my problems seem so unimportant.”
          “No, Scarlet. Yours are far more important. I’m so worried about you.”
          “… What do you know to worry about, Belvedere?”
         He nearly bit his tongue. Had he been any less careful, he would have told her exactly what he knew, and there was no way to explain that. “I know enough to guess. Will you tell me what’s going on?”
          “It’s not… I can’t.”
         He forced himself to stay quiet as her hand rose towards her scarf.
          “It’s nothing,” she said at length.
          “Nothing?” He wondered how she could say that.
          “If you know, then… please don’t ask. I’m… I don’t want to talk about it.”
          “I promised not to ask, and I won’t. I won’t tell you how to handle any of it.”
         Scarlet crossed her arms, but allowed him to pull her into an embrace. “I’ll be here if you want to talk, Alenna.”
         She yawned in the warmth of his hold, trembling. Could Belvedere feel the heaviness in her heart? If so, he supported the weight.
          “It’s late,” she whispered at last.
          “Don’t go home,” Belvedere said. “Stay. It’s not safe out at night anymore. Please, stay here tonight.”
         She nodded and let him shepherd her to a guestroom. “If you need anything, Scarlet, don’t hesitate to find me. Forget the hour. Alright?”
          “…I will.”
         Her empty tone worried him. “Goodnight Scarlet.” He touched her cheek.
          “Goodnight Belvedere.” His touch brought a slight smile to her lips and further sorrow to her eyes.
         Silence followed both of them to bed.

         It was minutes after two in the morning when Scarlet found herself in Belvedere’s room. To her surprise, he was awake and the only change in his dress was that now his shirt was unbuttoned and his boots were in the corner. She did not know the boots were wet, or that he had been polishing his blade, or that the papers would have more blood to write of in the morning. Belvedere knew, on a slight level, what he had done yet again, but the gravity of it was lost to him, buried in the chained and shadowed corners of his mind.
          “I’m sorry,” Scarlet said.
          “You’re not disturbing me. What happened?” He motioned for her to sit beside him on his bed. She did, after a slight hesitation.
         The scarf was not knotted at her throat, instead pulling her hair back and away from her cheeks. The bruises were no longer hidden: the fading purple of the handprint around her neck, the few, more red marks beneath her ears that had been hidden by her hair. And when she rolled up her sleeves, there were more on her arms.
          “Now you know,” she said, though Belvedere could not comprehend the guilt in her quiet voice.
          “I’ve known.” He put his arm around her shoulder, encouraging her to lean on him.
          “I had a nightmare. I couldn’t sleep anymore because I was so afraid all alone. I didn’t want to bother you,” she said.
          “Who has done this to you?” He placed his hands on her cheeks, tilting her head so he could look into her eyes.
          “My brother.” Scarlet was so used to her abuse that her emotions did not flare at this confession. “When he’s drunk.” She turned into his chest and rested her head against him. “He’s drunk a lot.”
         Belvedere held her. “Alenna…”
          “I’m so afraid…”
          “No Alenna.” Belvedere held her chin, tilting it up. He kissed her, his hands in her hair to pull her to him. For a moment his gaze could not leave her eyes. “I love you, Alenna.” He rested his chin atop her head. “And I’ll protect you, I promise.”
         Scarlet let him pull her down and lie next to her, he arm draped around her middle. Sheltered, she slept.

         Belvedere and Scarlet parted in the morning, but Belvedere, in his concern, could not stay calm knowing she was at home. He sought her out, the collar of his trenchcoat turned up against the cold. By chance, he saw her as she was walking into her apartment building.
          “Scarlet, are you doing alright?”
         She turned, smiling. “Belvedere, what are you doing here?” Her hair was brushed over to hide her left eye and the scarf had returned.
          “What is this?” he said, brushing the raven locks aside. The gash was frighteningly close to her eye, and only Scarlet’s attempt to bandage it had managed to close the wound.
         She pulled away. “I shouldn’t have stayed out.”
          “Scarlet, you don’t have to take this. Why would you?”
          “I-I don’t know. It wasn’t always like this.”
         He seized her hand. “You need to get that looked at. Come with me.”
          “If I go to a hospital they’ll report my brother. And besides, thanks to him, I couldn’t afford it right now.”
          “Listen to yourself, my love,” Belvedere said. He sighed. “Please, open your eyes and stop trying to rationalize that beast. He’ll ruin you, Alenna, and I can’t watch it happen!”
          “But I…”
          “Don’t worry about anything. Let me do that.” He was nearly pleading with her. “You want to keep your sight in that eye, don’t you?”
         She nodded and went with him to the hospital. There, her wound was stitched and the doctors took nearly an hour ensuring her vision was not damaged. At her request, Belvedere waited in the hall, sitting with his head in his hands.
          “They said I was lucky,” Scarlet said. She sat next to him. “But they haven’t asked me what happened yet.”
          “I won’t tell them,” Belvedere said. “I want you to end this on your own. I know you can, Scarlet.” He looped his arm above her waist.
          “Thank you. You… saved my sight, and maybe my sanity, too. Belvedere, I…” She leaned against him. “I love you too.”
         Belvedere brought his other arm around her and was quiet for a moment. “They want you to stay here tonight, to preserve your vision, but they’re going to let you come with me for a short time.”
          “Where to?”
          “To see your brother.”

         The rain in front of Scarlet’s apartment had never felt so grim, but she avoided any thoughts of fear.
          “He lives with you, correct?” Belvedere kept a concerned eye on her in every moment.
          “When he’s not out drinking.”
          “End it then,” he said. “Throw him out.”
          “Why would he listen?”
         Belvedere pulled back her sleeve, revealing the bruises. “Threaten him. He leaves or your word, or even mine, sends him to prison.”
          “What if he…?”
          “He won’t.” Belvedere put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s afraid of you Scarlet. I would fear you, were I him. Without you, he has nothing. Why else would he attempt to hold you back?”
         Scarlet’s eyes fell as she considered Belvedere’s words. “I have to try to end this,” she said, holding her arms where the bruises were.
          “I’ll wait for you,” Belvedere said. He nudged her confidently towards the door, but paced while she went in, his hand on the hilt of his rapier.
         She returned, an uneasy look on her face. “He’s not here. What should I do now?”
         Belvedere was silent for so long that Scarlet began to shiver in the rain. Draping his trenchcoat around her shoulders, he said, “If he is gone tomorrow as well, will you just let it go? Forget your past, and him?” Seeing her odd look, he added, “You’ve given him more than he deserves. Do not let your kindness keep you in this Hell.”
         The grave shadow in his eyes made no sense to Scarlet, but she was not aware of the Hell he was battling. “Fine. If he’s not home tomorrow I’ll let go.”
         A grin very unlike Belvedere tried to appear, but in Scarlet’s presence it withered. “Let’s get you back to the hospital then. They were nice to let you leave for this, and that was only because I asked personally.”
          “Belvedere, are you alright?”
         He paused to look at her. “Y-yes. It will all be ended soon.”
         He would not, or could not, explain what he meant.

         The final night. Already, the light of the blue moon was beginning to fade, so this would be the last. His reign, however small, would end.
          “One more death,” Belvedere said. Far from himself, he smiled, holding his sword before him. “A grand finale.”
         His steps were slow and deliberate as he walked a path he knew well.

~

         Scarlet tossed in the hospital bed, a slight ache beginning to strike at her left temple. Finally, she sat up and walked out into the hall, where the night nurse, no older than Scarlet herself, examined some charts with a yawn.
          “Is something wrong, Alenna?” she asked.
         Scarlet nodded.
         She knew. Somehow, she knew.
          “I need to go see someone. I have a terrible feeling he’s about to make a mistake.”
         The startled nurse saw the worry in Scarlet’s eyes. “I don’t know if I can let you leave. Staying tonight was just a precaution, but it’s so late…”
          “Please. I-I’ll come right back. Just a few minutes?”
         The nurse let her go.

~

          “Belvedere, wait!”
         Scarlet put herself between the door to her apartment building and the killer, unaffected by the blade in his hand. “Don’t do this.”
         He directed the weapon towards the ground. “Why not? This is what he deserves! Now move.”
         She held. Already tears lined her cheeks. “No, Belvedere, it’s not your place to decide what my brother deserves. Swear never to forgive him, I don’t care, but not this. Not on your hands.”
         Belvedere stepped forward and leveled his blade. “I intend to kill one more time. Do not force that person to become you.”
         Scarlet took a deep, shaking breath. “Please, open your eyes, Belvedere. Stop forgetting who you really are to kill my brother. It will ruin you, and I can’t watch it happen!” She sobbed, not believing his threat to hill her.
         His eyes fell upon her wounds, then widened. “What… What have I done?” The White Rose Rapier slipped from his hands as he fell to his knees. He trembled. “Every last one of them, I…”
         Scarlet went to her knees before him. “Are you…”
         The weight of what he had done beneath the blue moon’s light seemed to press against Belvedere’s limbs and kept him from standing. “I won’t harm your brother. I promise.” He swallowed the catch in his throat that had risen from his stomach. “How can I ever be forgiven for this?!”
         Scarlet embraced him and helped him to stand. “You never meant to do this,” she said into his chest. “I’ll forgive you.”
         For a moment he held her, then he stepped back with a broken smile. “Go back and rest, Alenna. I have… much to think about…” He looked down and kicked the rapier so that it skidded across the stone, though he would retrieve it later.
          “I love you, Alenna.”
         He gave her no time to say the same.

         Morning broke in shades of gray to Belvedere, a time without tone or life. Innocents hailed the passing of the bloody moon. Considering himself too far from them, Belvedere could not bring himself to smile for them. When the nurse told him Alenna had gone home (probably to sever ties with her brother), not a thought crossed his mind except a light, warm instant at the sound of her name. She would forgive him.
         Despite the flow of the rainwater, the red of her blood as it managed to pool was the first real color he saw. The door to her building was open. Not far from it she lay helpless in the street, he countless wounds letting her life drain without worry.
         Her brother had been to a party. She had worn Belvedere’s coat home. He had called her foul things. She made her stand. He jerked her down.
         Belvedere cradled her head in his lap and realized she had a pulse. The sound of ambulance sirens would never leave his head.

          “How did it come to this?” Belvedere asked, the heartless beeping of machinery the only reply. He supposed that as she lay in that hospital room and even then managed to stain the sheets that she did not look too bad, but he knew better.
         How long, he wondered, would her feeble breaths continue? If the doctors kept her alive, would she ever wake again? Such thoughts brought him tears again.
          “If only I had stopped him when I had the chance…”
         The doctor standing next to him said, “There was nothing you could do.” If only he knew. “At least the bastard who did this is in prison now.”
         Belvedere nodded, saying nothing to keep his pain hidden. When he was alone with her again, he kissed her forehead and sobbed until he lost the strength to do so.
         In gentle silence she left him as dawn’s hidden light began to show through the window. Finally, the rain shifted into snow. He was not awake to see it, but he had not ever moved from her side.

         The day of Alenna’s funeral, the snowfall was light but steady and had already begun to collect on the church steps. Belvedere climbed them and emitted a sigh. He refused to hear the bell overhead tolling for each year of her life. He shivered; he was burying his trenchcoat around his love’s shoulders.
         He spent some time talking to her lifeless form while others walked by the coffin.
         Adam, looking unlike himself dressed in black, said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid. I’ve never seen you this bad.” He placed his hand on Belvedere’s arm. Belvedere winced, said nothing.
         Alone with Alenna for a moment again, Belvedere helplessly let his eyes cloud, and it was not because of an allergy the multitude of roses all around him. He slid to his knees, his hands trailing her sleek, black coffin, a moan of pure agony escaping his lips. None could think of how to comfort him as he sobbed.
          “It’s my fault, Alenna!” he yelled at last. In his distress, the cuts he had made on his arms tore anew and began to crimson his sleeves. “You were going to forgive me…”
         He stood and turned to the mourners. “All of it is my fault! I am the one!” He drew his blade. In the sudden hush that had befallen the church, the sound of the metal rang for eternity.
          “I killed them. All of them.” His voice faltered. “And she…” He could only look at Alenna for a second. “I’m finishing what I started.”
         Sorrow was not a word to describe the look in Belvedere’s eyes as he rested his blade against his throat. “One final time, my love,” he whispered.
         A flash of Belvedere’s blade was the moon’s final torment.

-Fin
September 2005
This story is dedicated to:
Amber S. Thank you for showing interest.