SAMUAL TWITCH: HEART BREAK

A single candle still burnt, its tiny flame attempting to fight back the darkness of the night. It struggles valiantly to light the space, reflecting dimly in empty bottles discarded around the cluttered room, highlighting mounds of paper left haphazardly around the room. A small stove sits unused in one corner, covered in take away containers from local quick food restaurants. A large desk fills the main floor of the room, covered in piles of papers, small paintings of crime scenes, and documents. Three chairs sit around the table, two facing and one behind. Each chair would afford its occupant a good view of the documents scattered over the tables surface and that of a large notice board. The notice board is covered in newspaper articles, statements, paintings and maps of the area. Red string has been stretched from image to image creating an almost spider web effect that to any one, but its creator would just look like a confusing mess of thread.

A soft sound fills the rooms, the heavy, rhythmic breaths of someone in a deep sleep. Behind a curtain that sections off a tiny area of the room lies Samual Twitch. He is still wearing the clothes from his day where he has collapsed, obviously exhausted, on the bed. Shoes scattered to the floor by the foot of the bed, one sock half off in an half-hearted attempt to remove it before sleep claimed him. Samual rolls his prestigious frame to the side, a half empty bottle tumbles from his grip as he reaches up to scratch his mustache. The freed bottle rolled to the edge of the bed where after a precarious moment it falls, bottom first, and it lands miraculously unspilt in a small pile of laundry. Muttering something darkly under his breath, Sam is so lost in a dream he misses the first gentle knocking at his door.

The gentle rapping comes again, this time firmer with a nervous urgency to it, its tempo building until finally it breaks through Samual’s dreams, dragging him to a groggy wakefulness.

“Alright, I’m awake! Hold your horses…”

He attempts to force some semblance of wakefulness into his bleary eyes as he rubs them viciously, but instead he just confounds the problem. For a brief moment his eyes create blurry doubles of everything as he hauls himself from the bed, pulling back the curtain, and cautiously makes his way to his door. Stopping only swiftly to draw his trusty hand cannon from its holster on a peg on the wall.

Carefully Samual moves through the space, avoiding any of the nosier floorboards. It’s impressive to watch this large man move with such delicacy: knowing how to move silently through his own (all be it small) kingdom. Placing his back to the wall next to the door, his hand cannon grasped down by his hip in his right hand.

“Who the hell is it? Do you have any sodding idea what time it is?! This better be fucking important,” he growled through the door.

The voice that answers him is not the usual voice of a street thug, or one of the other constables looking for his help. It’s a soft voice, one filled with fear.

“Please… I’m so sorry… Are... are you Samual Twitch?!”

Samual blinks, the shock flickering across his face, he reaches with his free hand to partially open the door, keeping his right hand hidden as the door opens to reveal a young woman.

He takes her in in a second, long raven black hair frames her face, large hazel eyes glisten with tears, and a full-lipped mouth drawn back in fear. She was beautiful. She was wearing nothing to protect her from the biting chill in the air, not even shoes, just a ripped and muddy nightgown that did very little to hide her feminine curves.

“Please...,” she half sobbed, “You’ve got to help me… I … only just got out, He will be looking for me?! Please... he will kill me!”

Opening the door the candle guttered, finally losing its battle to hold back the night, and darkness fills the room, Samual investigates the street over the girl’s shoulder, searching the shadows for any thugs lurking waiting to storm into his modest apartment.

“Alright Miss, Sorry for my rudeness, please come inside.”

She moves quickly into his room, darting past him to stand in the centre of the cluttered space. Samual takes one last look around the street before closing the door and bathing them in darkness. As the door swings back into place, Samual takes a moment. Placing his hand against the wood of the door frame he gently whispers and for the briefest of seconds runes glow. They begin at the door and spread along the old wood of his home, the arcane light tracing beams until they’re seemingly within a magic cage, before fading away back into darkness.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Let me light some candles, just stay still so I don’t bump you.” Again, he moves around his darkened space with the grace of some one who has lived and worked from the space for years, moving between piles of paper with out jostling a single sheet. Small points of fire light illuminate the space, sending shadows dancing along the walls, and revealing the girl standing shivering in the middle of the room, looking even more lost, shielding her eyes against the sudden light. As Samual looks over at her, he realises girl is the wrong description, she is a woman, the night dress clings to her curves, her every movement making the fabric sway. He finds a blush raising on his cheeks and tears his eyes away from her. Looking down at a pile of papers beside him.

“You’re shivering... you must be freezing… I don’t have any clothes fit for a lady like yourself so ermm…,” urgently he moves across the room, grabbing the covers from his bed and whipping them around her shoulders. As he settles the blanket around her, she stumbles forward and into him. Her hands on his chest, her body pressed to his.

Looking up into his eyes she whispers softly, “So warm.”

The heat in the room feels almost unbearable to Samual now as the flush deepens on his cheeks. Quickly he steps back leaving her shrouded in his blanket. He can still feel the touch of her hands on his chest.

“Why don’t you take a seat Miss,” he blusters. “I’ll just get you a drink, and I can take your details and your story. Maybe I can find a way to help you.” Moving to the small kitchen area he rummages through the discarded bottles and glasses until he finds two that are cleaner than the rest. Polishing them on a rag and grabbing a bottle Samual returns to the desk, seating himself on the other side and signalling a chair opposite him. “Please, it’s not much, but make yourself comfortable.” Pouring them both a drink from the bottle, he smiles politely waiting for her.

“Thank you,” as she slowly lowers herself to the chair, the cut in her night dress reveals an alarming amount of her thigh and brings the blush back to Samual’s cheeks. Stifling a spluttering cough he begins to rummage through drawers in search of both an excuse to look away and a note pad to take her statement.

With a deep calming breath, he turns back to face her, and seeing the blanket now elegantly covering her modesty he gives a warm and reassuring smile. “Now why don’t we start from the beginning.”

“I appreciate everything you are doing... but maybe we should blow out some of the candles? If he follows me and sees the light… he will know something is going on…” Her eyes dart around the room looking at the candles and then back to the door.

Samual nods, “Of course, if it’s going to make you feel calmer, we can blow out a couple of the candles, but Miss, rest assured nothing bad is going to happen to you here. There are runes of protection caved into the building. Nothing evil can pass through them while they are active. And if this man does show up, well, I will dissuade him from any actions. And if that fails my Integrity will convince him,” as he says the words Integrity he reaches out and pats the hand cannon sitting on the desk between them. “And if Integrity fails… well Discretion is the better part of Valour and all that”

Samual then makes a show of moving around the room blowing back out most of the candles he’d lit, shadows rushing forward to fill the room again, stretching from the corners. Only two candles remain lit against the darkness. Just enough for Samual to be able to see to take his notes.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m just scared… I don’t want to go back. I don’t want you to suffer.”

Samual genuinely laughs softly, not mockingly but in a truly good-natured way “Well, thank you for your kindness, Miss. Now let’s get started. Name?”

“Verona.”

“Last name?” His pen poised ready to strike.

“Bellucci,” She licks her lips nervously

“Age?”

“22.”

“Now please, take your time, but in your own words tell me what’s happened.”

Nodding, she raises her glass to touch the liquid to her lips. Her shoulders relax, and thus fortified, she begins to speak. “I was travelling with my husband and my sisters from the small town of Sandpoint. We were coming here for a big family gathering. It was going to be the ball of the century. My Sisters and I had never truly left Sandpoint, we had been staying at Foxglove manor just on the out skirts. Have you heard of it?”

Samual’s pen scribbles across the page as he takes down her words, he shakes his head barely breaking his motion. “No, can’t say that I have.”

A dreamy look passes over her face as she smiles wistfully, “Ohh it’s a beautiful place, if you are ever in Sandpoint you will have to join us there as my guest. The architecture is just amazing, and the rooms have such an elegance. But more then that the atmosphere is just hypnotic. We have beautiful pieces of art dating back from hundreds of years. It’s a sight to behold.”

Samual waves the pen almost impatiently, “That does sound lovely, but please continue with your statement”

“Oh yes.. of course, how silly,” she says, a small blush appearing on her own cheeks. “We knew it would take us a little while to reach the city so we set out in our carriage with supplies and a modest guard. My younger sister Aleera was being a pain as usual, talking about the boys she would meet and woo. She was being so annoying that we never even noticed our carriage turn off from the road.”

Samual grunts making a small note on the page: A planned kidnapping?

“Before we knew what was happening, the carriage rolled to a stop. We banged on the wall, to get the drivers attention, to find out why. But nothing, it was just silence. It was terrifying… I can’t even begin to explain the type of silence I mean… it was oppressive, it crowded around us and hemmed us in. There was no bird songs, no sound of our drivers or the horses. After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than minutes, we decided the best idea was to step out of the carriage. Better to be able to run than cower like sitting ducks.” Verona again raises the glass to her mouth, before letting out a shakey breath. She continued her tale. “So, my other sister Marishka led the way, opening the door she stepped out first, I followed, then finally Aleera”

“Sorry, what about your husband?”

She stops for a second, then smiles, “He was back at the Manor, he sent us ahead, and would be joining us in the city.”

Samual tilts his head, tapping his pen rhythmically against the paper re-reading his notes and nodding, “Ahh yes… my mistake… Please, Continue.”

“As I said we were on our way to meet my husband’s brother and our carriage…”

“Sorry, again who is your husband’s brother and the family you are meeting?”

Huffing slightly Verona recentres herself, “He’s one of the Arkonas. My Husband is one of the lowliest of the family, more like distant relative. But he likes to be there for all the big social events of the season...”

Samual’s eyebrows raise at the mention of the Arkonas, but continues writing not letting his personal opinions cloud his judgement. He smiles “Ahh the Arkonas are a very well known and respected family. It must be very hard for you knowing that they are trapped in Old Korvosa. Please, forgive my ignorance of the social events. But when were you meant to be here for this party?”

Her eyes fill with fear as she nods vigorously, “It’s terrifying to think that they are trapped and no one can get to them. It must be horrific for them… We were meant to arrive over a month ago.”

Bobbing his head to show he understands, Samual gestures, “Well, please continue Mrs Bellucci, and I promise to keep my interruptions to a minimum.”

Tears fill her eyes as she adjusts in the chair, and even this movement has an elegant grace to it. The blanket falls from her shoulder revealing the bare skin and the curve of her neck. Samual feels his breath catch and hurriedly returns his focus to the writing in front of him.

“We stepped from the carriage, and it was horrible… the remains of our horses hung from the trees, their bodies ripped into pieces and flung around. We never found the remains of the driver, just his hat and riding crop… the ground was slick with blood. Poor Aleera stumbled and slipped in it; we were just helping her up when he appeared… He was a tall man dressed in all black. He had long black hair, and used a scarf to cover his mouth. He was whispering something but sounded less like a human and more like a demon! We tried to run, to scream… but nothing came out, our bodies wouldn’t obey us. He beckoned and we followed. We walked deeper into the woods until in a clearing he summoned 3 horses to carry us. I tried to fight against the spell, but nothing I did could break free of it. I watched in horror as we climbed upon the horses and followed the man in black.” Taking a shakily deep breath, she holds up her empty glass, looking up almost pitifully she asks, “May I have some more please? It’s so cold.”

Samual blinks, almost captivated by her. He hadn’t seen her finish it. “Yes of course, here allow me,” and pours another large glass of the warming brandy.

Her smile lights up her face truly showing how beautiful she is. “Thank you.” She takes the refilled glass back and continues, “The strange thing is we rode the horses… he didn’t. He ran… just as fast as us, and I think he could have gone faster. From there… everything is a blur. I know we ran to a small area of scattered homes by the river just outside the city. He had a house further away from the others. He led us in, and down into a basement… I couldn’t tell you how long we were there for… Each night he would come down and take one of my sisters away. When they returned, they were always weak and pale. Listless. They couldn’t keep food down, but they wouldn’t say anything bad against him, just how kind he was, how doting, how he had their hearts, and how he loved them. Marishka was the first not to return. Before he took her, she said goodbye, and that she would see us again if we were good and served her love. Aleera and I wept together deeply that night. Two nights later Aleera said goodbye… I wept alone that night… It was then I vowed I would escape from him… or die trying.”

Samual’s pen hung limp from his hands, looking at this poor woman so lost and alone. He went to her without thought, moving around the table and wrapping his arms around her, holding her soft body against him. His hands stroked her head as she clung to him. Blinking, he shook his head, surprised at himself for doing this. This was wrong. No officer should hold a witness like this, and yet it felt so right as she buried herself into him.

“So warm,” she whispered, “Please… It’s been so long since anyone held me… can we sit on the bed? I will tell you everything, just the comfort...”

“Of course,” Samual stepped back offering one hand to her, and reaching for Integrity with the other. Her small hand reaches out stopping him, clasping both his hands in hers.”

“I don’t think you will need that. You’re right, we are safe from him, here.” The blanket, spilling from her shoulder, reveals the figure-hugging night dress once more. She steps backwards leading Samual to his bed, and like a man lost a sea he follows, feeling the blush on his cheeks, but not knowing why.

Gently she guides him to sit, and then climbing onto his bed she curls her body against him; nestling her head onto his shoulder, his large arm draped around her, fingers easing against her hip. It amazes him how cold she feels. He wraps her in his arms, holding her.

Throatily he whispers, “Please… continue.”

She pauses, a small look of surprise and annoyance playing across her face and then she nods. “I knew he normally rested most of the day, so that was my chance. My sisters and I had been working at the bolts holding the cellar door closed. To my joy, that day they came loose. The door fell open and I was terrified it was going to crash down loudly, but it didn’t. I was able to gently lower it and pull myself up. And there, lying in the very room was my sisters, draped across the body of our kidnapper. I don’t know what this black-hearted fiend had done, but they weren’t breathing. They lay there wrapped around him like his twisted lovers. I didn’t wait any longer. I bolted from the door and ran! I’ve been hiding on the streets ever since… He was hunting for me, I know it. People kept going missing, bodies turned up slaughtered. The people on the streets said you were someone I could trust... someone who could help me. That you have stood up to corruption and evil men before. Please.”

Samual turns his head to look down at her and almost loses himself entirely as he gazes into her eyes. They seemed to almost grow until they were all he could see. His breath caught in his throat. “Anything,” was the only word he could force out, it didn’t feel like there was enough air in the world.

And she smiles.

Such a smile, so full of promise and wonder. She leans forward, her soft lips pressing to his. The kiss is full of promises, of lustful desires and fantasies. Her body thrust against him hungrily as her kiss deepened. Samual couldn’t say how long the kiss lasted only that he never wanted it to end.

Slowly she broke their kiss apart, a small grunt of pleasure escaping her lips. “You are so warm Samual… And I’m so hungry…”

The world slammed back into place around Samual, the room, the smell of the candle smoke. Her ice cold body pressing against him, her strong hands digging into his shoulder and head, pushing it to the side exposing his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he watches as she leans back. Her mouth seems to stretch and widen as her teeth grow to fill the space. More teeth then should be in a human mouth, all of them pointed and vicious.

“I’m sorry Samual.” Verona lunges forward her speed almost a blur, her teeth lashing towards their target, clamping hard around the barrel of a hand cannon.

“So am I,” he chokes out from a throat that feels too small for words.

A small explosion, and then a cloud of crimson coats the room as Samual pulls the trigger. The gaping hole in the back of Verona’s head continues to drip gore as her body tumbles lifelessly to the floor.

Samual takes a deep raged breath, returning Discretion to under his pillow, next to its twin Valour. He knew the charm had only just broken in time. A few moments later and he would have been another victim of the seductive beauty. Sadness fills his heart wondering how much of tale was true, and how many others suffered the heart break of loss because of it.