EP 09: BLUE BLOOD SPILLS THICKER

EPISODE 09

'blue blood spills thicker'

THE CAVENDISH MANOR was outside of London. We took our necessary preparations, getting the address from Cordelia and getting dressed in items suspiciously close to my taste but one check at the tag told me that it was more than what I usually pay for clothes.

It was a nice thick dress in a tan sort of checkers, with a collar and thick long sleeves. With black tights and heeled boots, it was me, my style, but an upgrade.

I hauled my bag and nervously fixed my curls. "Alright. Alright, Wendy. You're fine. This is fine."

Cordelia wasn't there to set us off, so we numbly went down the parked garage and left London. At the drive through a more familiar setting - expanse of green and grass, an odd cow or two passing by, I tapped my fingers on my lap. "His first message. It's been bugging me."

"Hm?"

"In accordance to our agreement - what's that about? What kind of loony agreement did you both sign up that has you meddling in deaths?"

"It was actually a little crack up," he said. "I never thought he'd take it seriously. We were drunk in a pub in Scotland, there were conversations, an overflow of beer. As most drunken conversations, we went to the lane of morality. He took out a paper and a pen and told me, 'if I am ever to die, know that I won't go down peacefully. Know that as much as possible, my death will be important. Not just to me, or to you, but the world. If I am to die, I want you to investigate it.' I told him, for that to happen he had to be murdered."

Leon swallowed, his grip on the wheel tightening. "I remember now. Just after I signed the paper - he was smiling. I don't remember if it was a joking smile or a sad one. I just remembered he was smiling."

At the silence, the expanse of the countryside before us, the oncoming storm that darkened the skies, I spoke.

"You can call him many things, but Dominic Prince keeps his promises."

Leon smiled. Even for just a small one. "That he does."

- - -

The Cavendish Manor was not at all what I expected it to be. It was bright and airy, with more cream tones to masterfully project the darker colours of the room in a cleaner atmosphere. It was all deep greens and blues, in wallpapers of lush peacock with a lining of gold. The flowers and plants abundantly present were fresh and real, and the staffs were simply dressed in black but cheery.

One look at Leon from the maid who opened the door, her eyes sparkled in recognition. "You must be that missus' brotha! She said you were comin'!" Her northern accent, plus bright presence was a total contrast of the weather and our current predicament that it was a little shocking.

"Don't harass the guests, Myrna, my apologies sir and lady," said a dutiful butler who sidestepped the maid and shooed her on with a sharp look. She gave us a lasting look even as she walked back. He wasn't much older than us, that was a shocking revelation. Maybe a good ten years - looks to be in his later twenties with blond hair and a serene face. Not so much as stoic as Leon's own manservant.

"Young master Cavendish is waiting in the sun room. Please. After me."

As he led forward, my eyes adjusting to such a well-lit manor, much more than Leon's that felt warmer in a way that it was traditional with teak wood and buttered reds. This was pale white in bones and coloured like a lush forest. The potted plants bloomed in bright oranges and pinks now again.

"For some reason this feels... less than what I thought it would be," I murmured as softly as I could next to Leon, aware of the proximity of the butler, as well as the echoing of the hallway. But also unlike Leon's, the staffs were present in almost every other corner. Their eyes following us quietly, dusting imaginary cobwebs away, murmuring right after as we passed.

"I don't know as well," Leon murmured. "It maybe the windows. They're gigantic. Natural light is always good light. Still. I prefer the darkness. Moodier. Sexier, I guess."

I turned to him, shocked, as he snickered slightly. "You're awful."

"Just to lighten up, my apologies. I feel oddly frayed with nerves."

"You're fine."

"I don't know Milo that well," Leon admitted. "Even the maid knew more about my sister than me. Which is not so odd. But the idea is disturbing."

"Your sister has a lot of connections, that's what I'm realising. But you're the sleuth now, so have confidence in yourself."

He straightened and breathed, his eyes changing to one more of determination. "Alright."

"This way, sir and miss," butler said, stopping at two ornately decorated doors. Simple and white, framed by two long leafy plants, and designed in gold linings.

The rich really do adore their gold.

As the butler opened the doors, right at the second - a flying teacup came hurling out of the room.

Leon and I came to a screeching halt as it flew just between our heads and hit somewhere with a resounding breakage.

"What in bloody - " I turned to the butler, at awe as he was in a perfect one eighty bend, just in time of a millisecond thought to duck and avoid getting hit in the face.

Leon grabbed my hand, gritting his teeth he said, "I don't like this, we should - "

Unfazed as if this was nothing at all, the butler straightened himself, adjusting his tie, as he entered the room. "Please, young master, you've got to stop throwing the china around. We have guests." He turned to us, his smile kind, matching his eyes. "Please sir and miss, the young master Cavendish is pleased to see you."

"For some reason, I doubt that quite a bit." With the same hand that Leon held tightly as if his life depended on it, I squeezed. "Let's go. He's just one man. And a drunk to boot."

- - -

Milo Cavendish was everything and nothing I thought of.

One, he was younger, way younger than I thought he was. When you expect someone from blue blood whose uncle was knighted, you would have thought he was a man in his forties or some sort. He looked young. Young as maybe Leon's older sister. But he was shabby despite the pristine robe that was loosely tied to his body. His hair was long and black, half covering his face. You couldn't see his eyes at all.

He was laid casually on a long, white couch in a room that had a particular wall looking out to a gorgeous, floral garden wild with vibrant flora made of pure glass. One leg over another, his arms over his plush cushions. His black hair was half tied, but there were still bangs covering much of his face. He had a growing stubble.

Laid out on the low table in front of him was a singular glass of what I could smell was some sort of strong alcohol.

We sat down in front of him, in two separate arm chairs. Gold-bodied peacocks with their real feathers stood in proud pedestals that sandwiched us. I sat straight right after I let go of Leon's hand, my own fists now curled on my lap.

The butler bowed slightly. "Mr. Song and Ms. Cain. They have an appointment with you today, sir."

Milo did not move from his position. He was like a statue... until his lips moved. And his voice... quiet, almost a faint whisper, but with an obvious croak of someone who hadn't been using his throat in a while. "I don't remember. I know of a Ms. Song. That bratty bitch. But I don't want guests."

The room stilted, almost suffocating.

"Young master," the butler scolded, his eyes sharply to the covered eyes.

Leon exhaled. "What the fuck did you just say?" His fists were shaking and I half stood just as I could feel him rising from his seat. I pushed him down.

"Leon, please."

"Ah, Leon Song," Milo said, voice devoid of emotion and fainter than a snake's hiss. "I remember you now. Your sister was the quiet diamond, made exactly with a gold band. She was serene but she was a liar. You're the one with the emotions. The honesty. I don't like you, I remember now."

"Well, fuck you too, mate." Leon straightened tall, muttering, "그 개자식."

"How amusing," Milo murmured. "Your sister told me the exact same thing. Haven't had it translated yet. Would you be so kind?"

"It means 'you son of a bitch'," I said as clear as I could.

"Oh," Milo said. He turned his head to me. It disturbed me that I couldn't see his eyes. It was made worse when I couldn't discern anything from his voice nor expression. All I could categorically say about him was that he a fantastic asshole so far. "Well. Now I'm positive I don't know you. What a lovely feminine voice."

"And that stays that way," Leon half-growled.

When Milo turned to him with an inquisitive tilt. I closed my eyes. Shit. "Protective, aren't you, younger Song? That doesn't sound like a Song I know. Your grandfather I know, your sister of course, and even your mother. Your grandfather cares little about anything but his pride and legacy, your sister cares... I don't know, nothing I think. But that's impossible, isn't it? People will always care about something. You, perhaps. But that's given. That's family and legacy. Your mother on the other hand, cares just about everything. Even that new husband of hers. And her new litre of orphans. And you seem to care a great deal about this - Miss Cain was it?"

"Are you threatening me?" I asked, irked at the motion of this.

He turned to me. A ghost of a smile appeared. "No, of course not. Caring is good. Caring gives you weaknesses. And weaknesses gets you killed. But weaknesses are also very human. Your sister - not you, Miss Cain, I don't know you at all, maybe later I'll know better- Cordelia Song, was it? Found out a weakness of mine. So now here we are."

Leon and I shared a look. I wanted to shake my head, but it was there. Leon proposed the question.

"Is it the same weakness that Dominic knew?"

That ghost of a smile turned into a real one. "Are you threatening me?"

"Who knows," Leon answered.

"I didn't kill him," Milo answered mildly, the smile still present as if he was hearing a tune he adored. "I don't own guns that new. I have ones for historic purposes. My uncle collects. He's dying now. I'll get them soon."

That sent a chill down my spine. Leon's voice hardened. "That wasn't my question."

"No," Milo answered. "Your sister doesn't know what Dominic knew. But that's what's fascinating about it, isn't it? Dominic who came from nothing, who appeared in our ranks out of nowhere with that dramatic abundance of swagger and ego like he had always belonged here with us, knew. Or he found out. I don't know. But he's dead now isn't he? So that knowledge of his dies with him. A fascinating chap. Not a good one, but a fascinating one. Shame he died actually. I thought it was about to get very interesting with him around. Your sister is interesting too, but she's a different sort. And you, young Song, don't like that you're interesting. You skim your interesting quality but never delve deeper. The only time you ever were that interesting was that dead man you killed, but that's old. And you became very boring right after."

Milo breathed, leaning his head back against the sofa and his hair moved. I could see his closed eyes with deep bruises underneath them that spoke highly of his lack of sleep. "I'm tired. I think I need more heroin, John."

For the first time, I saw panic in the butler's eyes, who gave us quick panicked looks. "Sir - "

Milo exhaled again, his eyes opening. When he tilted them back down, I could see them properly. His eyes were a bright shade of green that was almost neon. Like a cat's. Milo tilted his head on one side, half raised. "It's not like it's breaking news I like drugs. They're nice. Calms me down."

"You could go to prison," I pointed out, half baffled I have to tell this to someone.

Milo stared at me for a second. His gaze was maddening, something about it made me feel uncomfortable and squeezed. Like his gaze was assaulting me. Leon felt my discomfort and moved so slightly in front of me so I could look away. His hand, enclosed in mine, tightened.

"Fuck off," Leon growled.

That punctured him. Milo burst out laughing. It was loud and boisterous, echoing in a room so quiet, it was almost sharp to the ears. No one else laughed. I felt shaky. When he looked back down again, danger lurked quietly in his eyes. A menace that made me shiver. Leon's hand tightened again.

"There are many reasons I could go to jail, my love, and I tell you now that drugs don't even make it to the top three. Dominic knew one of them. Now he's dead."

"You keep saying that," Leon said, frustrated. "How do I know you didn't kill him?"

"You don't. Very simple, isn't it? But I didn't. And you only have my word for it. Now that's comedy gold." Milo closed his eyes again, his smile small. "I like gold, don't you notice? Gold is everywhere in my house. This is my safe haven. And I made an awful deal with your sister and now you're in my safe haven, desecrating it." He opened his eyes again, looking exhausted. "I thought I liked you the most out of the Songs. You didn't mind me. You knew me and I knew you and that was that.

"But Dominic came and ruined it for everyone. Or maybe he saved everyone, like a true prince. I don't know. The lines are blurred. But this, I guess, I can tell you as much. Your friend? That blond little prince? He was a spider. He has his webs and he linked it to all the people he had always needed to link it to. He made his looms and he tied them tightly to himself. It was like a butterfly effect afterwards. He made these people angry, so they would kill him, unwittingly marking their own fates. Because when you kill the spider, you bring down the loom. When you kill the foundation, you shake and crumble the entire house."

Milo stared at Leon with a more focused look, one that was more sober and much more serious. "Dying was always part of the plan. His death - you can't blame the killer. Because his death was predetermined. And that's the most important part that you should remember, young Song. Find the reason why he needed to die. And if you find it, I swear on my life and my poor bastard's father's, I'll tell you everything myself."

Milo leaned forward and took his glass. His butler quietly taking a bottle of whiskey and poured it to the brim. He swallowed the entire thing in three gulps. When he turned to us again, he carved a watery smile.

"Your sister was the best thing that ever happened to me. Yes, she was bratty, and yes she was a bitch, but if things had gone right, I would've married her, young Song." He squinted. "You don't look like her at all."

He looked down again, setting his glass over the table. He exhaled, his hair covering his eyes once more like a puppet show's red curtains as the story came to an end. "You may all leave now. I've told you everything you need. Fly away and find the truth. Then come find me again."

- - -

NEXT

EPISODE TEN

TOW TRUCKS ARE NOT FRIENDS

- - -

I wrote this with the theme: create something like a fever dream.

There were quite a lot of bombs in this chapter. As well as red herrings.

I hope you've spotted most of them.

- - -