Chapter 2.54 – Part Two: The Demonic Bitch

Welcome to the end of book two. If you survive this, I swear – it gets better.

Warning: Non-consent, suicidal sim, violence, child abuse, blood, ritual humiliation.

A little while after sunset, I sat under the tree on the hill where we’d first met, and gazed up at the colour-changing clouds as the light began to fade.

Angeline was usually here before me, but no matter. John had perhaps made it difficult for her that night and she would’ve had to sneak out after dark.

Or, more likely, she was simply annoyed with me and wanted me to sweat.

I had picked some flowers for her from various window boxes around town. She wasn’t the kind who would’ve swooned at this gift or even really appreciated the beauty of the delicate blooms, but she would’ve very much enjoyed hitting me with them as she turned the air blue with her reprimands.

I’d have enjoyed grovelling.

I tried to relax by thinking through the forthcoming night in my head. We would lie back, like most nights, and she’d likely ask me questions about my past. It fascinated her, rather than repulsed her, so I’d answer honestly whenever she asked about my childhood, about my father.

About how he’d send me out to ‘earn my keep’.

How he’d ‘settle the balance’ because no amount was ever enough.

Until it was enough.

The townsfolk had been unable to decide whether I was a victim or an uncaged lunatic, but ultimately it was my tender age that spared me the gallows. They gave me the lighter punishment; fourteen years of isolation and ‘therapy’ in the Tower, and a lifetime tarred as insane.

Angeline could never stay down for long and she didn’t allow me to. So, after she’d asked any burning questions, we’d likely chat nonsense. We’d joke about turning the dairy farm into a funfair and how many apples I needed to sell to buy a carousel. Or I’d simply listen to her talk about plants and nature some more. I always learned something new.

Maybe tonight she’d revisit that unusual conversation from the previous night about how she could shoot stars from her hands, but she wasn’t allowed to show me.

That was weird even by her kooky standards.

Then, I’d ask her the question that was making my mouth dry.

I watched the pin pricks of light puncture through the velvet black above me, wishing I’d brought that onion along. I was starving. Not enough to take up Noah’s offer though.

Angeline wouldn’t eat anything with a face so, for her, neither did I, however tempting a lamb dinner may have been right then. I used the foraging skills she had taught me to find some blackberries to tide me over.

She had been foraging the day I met her, three weeks after my release. I could never forget the day I finally walked free; how bright the sun was. How overwhelming the hope was and how quickly that died as those I had grown up alongside either avoided me or threatened me, lest my illness be contagious.

I didn’t know much about Angeline when I’d bumped into her near this very tree, and she seemed to know nothing about me.

The kinder villagers described Angeline as being ‘away with the fairies’, but most simply called her strange.

Granted, when she opened the conversation by talking about beetles, then proceeded to argue with me about who would win a fictional fight between a cat and a goose, I did agree with their assessments. But by the time we got on to the topic of social conventions, how she told me that it was fine that I didn’t go to church – the priest once tried to feel her bottom and so she didn’t go either – she started to make perfect sense to me.

The hope started to return.

Until she asked me what the rope I was carrying was for.

She didn’t ask me why or try to talk me out of my plan. In fact, she offered to retie the noose for me as I had made a pig’s ear of it, apparently.

She promised that she would come back at sunset to cut me down and bury me, because someone would have to.

I spent the day willing myself to do it, until night fell, until Angeline returned. With a shovel, as she’d promised.

It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.

I lay back on the grass, watching the twinkling sky. I threw the blackberries, one by one into the air, catching every one of them in my mouth, listening to my stomach rolling and the wind gently fluttering the leaves of the tree above me.

The night as heavy upon me as Noah’s words and the fear of what I was about to do, I rehearsed what I would say to Angeline as I threw another berry skywards and caught it right between my teeth.

Angeline, will you marry me?

No. Too overdone. Too generic.

Angeline, will you entangle with my soul and rot for eternity with me in hell?

Hmm. Maybe I’d have been better to stick with the first one.

Would she laugh in my face? Likely. She’d never given me any indication that she wished to marry me. What if she didn’t? Would she even take me seriously when I asked?

I looked over at the sad bouquet. I should have stolen her something better. No, not stolen; stop defaulting to that. I should have saved up and bought her a fine engagement gift to prove my intentions. A fancy gown that she could’ve worn to ruin while foraging. Perhaps not. A fur cape. No, not fur; minks have faces. Jewels? As if I could’ve ever afforded jewels.

Maybe I should have spent less time tangled around Angeline and more time trying to win John’s favour. Bollocks. Noah was right; I had set myself up for failure.

I threw the last berry up and waited, mouth open.

For the first time ever, it landed on the ground beside me, missing its target completely.



I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew it was the dead of night and there was still no sign of Angeline. Resignedly, I grabbed up the flowers and headed towards the farm. If she wanted me to go to her, I would.

If I had to face John’s shotgun, so be it. 

I pushed open the gate to the farm and boldly walked in, past the milking shed, briefly imagining Angeline, with her pink cheeks and messy braid, coaxing milk with those incredibly skilled hands of hers…

I wouldn’t usually approach the house; I was inviting the muzzle of a gun between my eyes if I tried. As I approached the door, I noticed that it was ajar.

I pushed it open and peered inside. The room beyond seemed undisturbed and the house was quiet.

I tiptoed through, opened the door to Angeline’s room. Her bed was unmade, her window open. I must have just missed her; she must be on her way to the tree.

I paused to look at her soft, hand-knitted bedcovers, the collection of bizarre items on her desk. A white candle, a flower and that bottle I’d seen her pocket earlier. It was full of a pink liquid with some sort of wading bird on the label; a heron perhaps, or a crane.

What on earth could that be for?

As I made to leave, I noticed that the door to John’s bedroom was also ajar. Someone clearly needed the skills of the carpenter; those doors must have all been hung incorrectly. I took a step closer to the door, curiosity getting the better of me; I’d never been in there.

Since the death of Angeline’s mother, John had slept alone. I had never known the woman, but I imagined that if she had been anything at all like her daughter, she was enchanting, impossible to forget.

Risking attack with a round of bullets, I peeped through the gap to the room inside.

Illuminated by a tiny oil lamp, the scene that met my eyes took all the air from me. There was blood pooled on the floor, splattered on the wall, soaked into the weave of the bedcovers and in the middle of all this carnage, was John.

There was no movement, no breath, but I had to know for sure if he was still alive. I felt my stomach flip as I crossed the room to the bed and forced myself to examine him. As I gently rolled him over, my hands slipped on his skin and I retched at the unnatural way his head lolled as he moved.

Clearly dead and almost decapitated.

I clasped my hand to my mouth in an attempt to hold in the vomit that filled it, willed my feet to the courtyard where I emptied my insides into a gulley. I stayed on all fours with my forehead on the floor until every blackberry had evacuated in a burning cocktail of purple acid.

Why had Angeline done this? How had she done this? Had she done this? If she hadn’t, who had?

John was well-liked, well-respected and most amenable to everyone who wasn’t trying to dishonour his darling daughter. I couldn’t think of a single person who would wish him harm—

“There is no way on Watcher’s green earth that John will give you her hand.”

“I’ll find a way.”

Bollocks.

If they’d found me with John, the writing would’ve been on the wall. There wouldn’t have even been a trial; my past would’ve been enough evidence to convict me.

I tried to get to my feet but I seemed to have lost the use of my legs; my knees crashing back to the stone with a crunch. The world grew hazy as a shadow approached from behind me.

I felt the air being pushed out of me as if I was being squeezed by a giant, invisible fist. Panic gripped me and the world around me started to fade.

I felt something soft brush against my neck, followed by something sharp and was blinded by a sudden flash of light.



I always woke at that point and I always woke here.

In the heavy black of the basement, my senses slowly started coming back to me, piecemeal. As my vision adjusted to the darkness I could see the cot. So that meant I was on the chair. I was sure that I was last on the cot, but then I’m fairly sure I was also dressed and now—

Familiar paralysis. Those all-too-familiar glowing, green eyes, almost blindingly bright in the void.

Damn. That all too familiar sensation, amplified ten-fold in the abyss.

I was sure that she’d only visited me yesterday and I was still light-headed. Was it yesterday? I had no real concept of time in there.

I tried to think of something else, put myself somewhere else, but with her barbs in my head there was nothing else. I couldn’t distract myself from her and what she was doing to me.

Kitty purred into my ear. Her hold tightened and her pace quickened as she realised I was awake.

Damn.

The coldness of her skin, her iron grip. The way she nibbled on my earlobe with those needle-sharp teeth. Watcher, help me. The derogatory things she was calling me…

I shuddered. I was still drained from her last visit; I could feel the chilled air of the basement on the still-raw wound on my neck. But despite this, despite everything…

She purred, running her tongue from my collar bone to my ear before finally releasing her grip. This was no reprieve. Instead, she hiked up her skirt and climbed on to my lap; the broken chair groaned beneath the weight of us.

She nibbled me; a threat.

Drowning in the swamp between thrill and fear, pleasure and pain, desperately trying not to give her the satisfaction of my losing control, I was only vaguely aware of the lantern approaching, the figure that had appeared in the shadows. His eyes shining yellow in the low light of the basement.

“Layne wants you,” Patrick said to Kitty, his face and voice both impassive.

She growled in frustration; the vibrations painful against the exposed inners of my neck. She grabbed me by the hair, yanking my head from her bite, never vice versa. I felt the sharp tips of her ragged teeth tear my flesh as we broke apart.

“I’m busy, Patsy.”

“Eat some other time,” Patrick waved his hand, knocking Kitty from my lap. She stumbled, but swiftly regained composure.

Patrick glanced over at me and swore. “Seriously? Is that why you’re always down here? You’re one messed-up broad, Kathryn.”

Her voice was a sinister purr. “There’s envy if I ever did see it. Kindly advise Layne that I’m busy and get lost.”

The room fell silent except for the sounds of my breathing but some sort of discussion was taking place between the undead duo; I could tell by the heavy, prickly feeling in the air.

Kitty suddenly laughed. “Why would I bother with that when he’s so happy to oblige?”

“Happy?” Patrick repeated. “Your brain really is buggered if you think he’s happy with this.”

She sauntered over, wedging her knee firmly between my thighs as she grabbed me by the hair. She pulled back, cradled my face, forced me to look directly into those cat-like green eyes of hers. Her voice condescending, like she was talking to a small child.

“You would do anything to please me, wouldn’t you, boy? And I know you like our playtime, don’t you? I’m sure Patrick can see how much you enjoy it,” she ground her knee into my groin, “but as he’s clearly as blind as he is impotent, perhaps you should tell him.”

I bit my lip to try and prevent myself replying. But Kitty always got her honest answer when she had her mental manacles on me. Her instruction like a cleaver to the cranium, forcing out all reason.

Tell him you enjoy it, boy.

I justified that her visits were preferable to the abject loneliness. That this mistreatment was at least something in the endless nothing. But as time had passed, I had begun to long for her touch, to ache for her attention.

And the pain from her pressing her knee was making my head spin.

“I enjoy it,” I admitted; my cheeks burning with the shame.

“Fuck’s sake,” Patrick hissed.

Kitty cooed, stroking my cheek gently and uttering sweet nothings. She gave me a swift lip nibble and stood up, triumphantly tossing her silver curls back over her shoulder.

“I’ll be right back,” she informed me; half promise, half threat. She blew Patrick a raspberry and slinked off up the stairs.

Kitty’s hold on me broke as she ascended, leaving me alone with Patrick. Wordlessly, he threw my clothes at me and I pulled the garments on while he remained behind me, watching. Silently.

There were three male vampires and none of them had ever taken a drink from me, never even tried and yet they terrified me just as much as Kitty did. Patrick’s gaze lingered hungrily on my throat and I instinctively wiped the wound with my hand; it came away slick and red.

I clamped my hand over my neck and pressed down. It would stop, eventually. Always did.

“She won’t keep you down here forever,” he murmured, licking his fangs absently. He tore his gaze from the blood that was seeping slowly through my fingers and turned towards the stairs.

“What will she do with me?” I dared to ask. His heavy boots stopped in their tracks.

Did I really want to know? I’d heard the screams of others they’d captured. They were always silenced within hours. I had no idea how long I’d been down here. Months? Was being Kitty’s plaything the only thing keeping me alive?

Was that better than the alternative?

I clung to a thread of hope that it meant that, one day, I would have freedom. I tried not to think of what Angeline must be doing, whether she’d moved on, how she’d coped as an unmarried woman without a father, but she was always in my dreams and on my mind as I desperately tried not to lose it.

I wondered if I’d ever see her again.

Patrick lingered at the base of the stairs, no doubt listening to my thoughts. He was the quietest of the vampire group, reserved and measured in his responses. His visits were brief and he didn’t usually respond to my conversation attempts, my questions or my pleas for freedom.

That day, he surprised me.

“She’s going to make you one of us,” he muttered, clearly disapproving of the idea.

I wanted to ask how but I couldn’t get past the ludicrous thought of me, as a vampire. I wondered what Angeline would think when I eventually escaped from these monsters. I laughed, imagining what she would say when I told her about my new diet.

“People have faces, Seth. You can’t eat them!”

Patrick snarled showing his teeth. Two, long sharp fangs, very different to Kitty’s snare and tear gnashers, but just as menacing.

“It’s not a joke, Seth.” I almost looked up as he used my name. They never, ever used my name. “Everything has a price and freedom doesn’t come cheaply. If you think her controlling your human urges is bad, wait until she controls your fucking thirst. Although you’ll probably enjoy that too, you sick wimp. Oh, if your fate was up to me—“

He wrenched my hand from my neck, watching the trickle of blood I felt soaking into my shirt.

In a movement so swift that I didn’t even see it, he brought his lips to my broken skin, pressed his fangs into the wound. His draw deeper and far stronger than Kitty’s; the rapidity of the blood loss causing me to panic.

As suddenly as he began his attack, he stopped, pulled back, looked at the puddle that was appearing on the floor at my feet.

“Pathetic,” he uttered, shoving me. “To think that you will be immortal. It cheapens everything. It sickens me.”

I leant against the wall, as far as I could get from him, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart; every beat making his eyes glow brighter.

Patrick snuffed the lantern, leaving me the in the pitch dark once more. I waited to hear him ascending the stairs and the latch on the heavy door being lifted but instead I heard his voice echoing inside my head and a fluttering sensation like the pages of a book in the wind.

You want freedom? Step one: forget her.

I wondered what this meant as I let my thoughts linger on those green eyes, those flushed cheeks, breathing in the soap and soil scent of Angeline. I could never forget her. I would never forget her. Let them torture me, turn me, whatever the hell they wanted.

I was going to escape this nightmare. I was going to find her if it killed me.

“Did you miss me baby?”

So lost was I in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Kitty behind me, until she was right behind me. The compression in my temples made me see stars.

“You’re thinking of that witch again.”

“I’m not!” I insisted, spinning around.

Those words; I immediately regretted them. I should have admitted it. ‘Cheating’ would earn me a day without food, but I’d done the other thing. The thing she couldn’t stand.

And the demonic bitch knew. Of course she knew. She always knew.

Kitty pinned me against the wall with nothing but the power of her mind and I hung, limp, like a ragdoll, defenceless, yet again, to the will of this diminutive woman.

Her screaming amplified in my head as she approached, my throat tightening in her invisible hold as she lifted me from the floor. Those glowing green orbs the last thing I always saw before I felt the tearing of my flesh, the loss of my breath and the heavy fall into the temporary embrace of unconsciousness.

Lies.



23 thoughts on “Chapter 2.54 – Part Two: The Demonic Bitch

  1. Congratulations! You succeeded! 🥰
    The beast turned into a victim and I only feel pity for him.

    (But I still hope they can find a better way in the future 😉 )

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Haha! Sorry! I wanted these two chapters to be released to the usual schedule, but I hate this chapter so much that I thought I’d just get it out of the way.
        On the plus side, you now have a couple of months to cuddle your cats, ponder your pieces and relax your overworked mind before I’m back, messing up your day again. 😄🌼

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  2. I wonder why cat lady opted to kill John. The likeliest reason seems to be because she knew Seth would wind up getting blamed for that so killing the dude would ensure Seth could never return to his old life, should he attempt to do that as a vampire. She did not kill Angeline though, which is interesting, with jealousy being what prompted the action. Was she saving that for later, I wonder?

    Also, if this is how Kitty scouts her victims, going to them in cat form before kidnapping them, that could be, um, interesting for Jess. Though April’s great aunt had the cat visiting her and as far as we know died of natural causes, or at least, died old, so… hm. I am very curious about how one ends up being a vampire cat hybrid of sorts.

    Random side note – these vampires are very progressive for their time, Kitty is a woman but clearly has quite a lot of power within her group, she certainly seems to be Patrick’s superior. Good for her.

    Randomer side note – have we seen Patrick before? I think we’ve at the very least heard of this group from Lilith before, in relation to someone studying the plasma fruit. Though it could have been other vampires, I don’t quite remember, I just know they were a group of rogues.

    The other theory I have I suppose could be something with Angeline inadvertently making some kind of a deal gone wrong with the vampires. Whether it had to do with her trying to one up her father to get him to agree to her seeing Seth (or more grimly, get him out of the picture – though I don’t think decapitation is quite what she’d had in mind), or her being pissed about Seth watching Harriett, if she was mixed up in it it definitely backfired.

    Angeline and Seth’s first meeting was… kind of sweet? Ok, that’s definitely not the right word for it, but there’s something about that level of openness and honesty they would have hared right off the bat. I do wonder, had Seth known what would end up happening to him, would he have followed through with his plan on that day they met?

    Oof, it looks like Seth’s father was pretty well off – would that have been purely thanks to Seth’s, err, activities, or was that simply a way of him retaining his fortune? Or did he never really rely on that? Ugh, I don’t know why I’m asking because I don’t want to think about it. Moving on.

    The candle, the flower and the jar… we’ve definitely seen those before, when Broof and Wyatt were faffing with them. So whatever that ritual is, it’s been in the family for generations, but what does it do? Hmm…

    How do you give us lots of new information, and yet somehow there’s more questions than answers regardless?

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    1. Did cat lady kill John? You’re not wrong, though. Whoever did was probably aware that Seth would be blamed, and that he’d also conveniently place himself at the scene…

      I doubt goody-two-shoes Jessica is Kitty’s ideal victim, but that shifty Morag might be. 😆 Maintaining that Robert is a vampire hybrid, hey? We’ll see.

      The Reprobates (as the rogue group were called) were oddly progressive. When we eventually get round to it and it becomes more relevant, you’ll get background on Layne, the rogue ‘leader’ and you’ll see how this group’s attitudes came about and why.

      We have seen Patrick before. He was featured in Lilith’s flashback about this very group in Ch. 2.10.

      Ooh, I’m generating all the fun theories today! A deal gone bad is definitely what started this, although not quite the way you’re thinking.

      You know, I thought it was kind of sweet. I was toying with the idea of having Seth taken by the Reprobates at that moment but, as I was pondering, up wandered the village weirdo and started a conversation with him about cockroaches and they hit it off. Sometimes, things just write themselves, don’t they? 😆 Oof, ouch. The regret of having not carried out the plan. That’s… dark.

      Yeah, Seth’s dad was a wealthy man, thanks for the most part in him sending his son out to rob people. And he had a really good reputation too, bar the odd time Seth got caught by someone he was robbing, which was usually rectified by giving the poor boy a public torrent of abuse. I didn’t even know parent sims could shove and hurl forbidden words at their kids until Roberto Grimm came along. The first thing teen Seth did when he aged up was ‘fight’ his father. And Seth won, so as he could clearly look after himself, I took that opportunity to snuff Roberto. Almost as satisfying as snuffing Vlad. Look at you, getting all the behind-the-scenes gossip today. 😆

      What do a flower and candle do? All sorts, depends on the colour of the candle and the kind of flower. The bottle was simply an obvious hint at something most of you have already picked up on. 🤰

      How do you give us lots of new information, and yet somehow there’s more questions than answers regardless?” I don’t know. Maybe because you’re all now so well-accustomed to my onion baumkuchen that you anticipate/look for additional layers? Answers are coming aplenty in book three, now Seth knows what was missing and what his quest was, and Lilith and Sage are gonna have to start explaining things to Caleb, April, Wyatt and Broof sooner or later. 😄

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  3. A stork, Seth. You’re looking at a stork. 😶

    Well, then. I didn’t think I’d dislike someone in the AE cast more than I did Seth and Sandy, but here we are. You are truly vile, Bob. I have much more colourful language in mind, but I think I’ll stop there. What she’s doing to Seth is absolute hell. It doesn’t seem like it’s on a mere whim, either, with what happened to John, Angeline vanishing and that cat being there moments before Seth blacked out.

    What I don’t understand is why. A previous chapter had Lilith talking about (I think, I might be misremembering) how that group of rogue vampires went after the outcasts of society. To turn them into one of their own? Is that what is happening here? It’s absolutely horrid either way. I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy.

    It also doesn’t excuse what modern-day Seth has done up until now. I wonder how much of modern-day Seth’s behaviour was moulded by Bob. I want to give him some leniency because of the absolute nightmare that he went through – but until that moment, he didn’t remember much of it, did he? He didn’t even know Bob’s name until Faith pushed him about it. But even if he did remember… being treated monstrously does not excuse acting like a monster. I know that that is putting it incredibly black-and-white, and reality is way more grey and complicated. But we’ve seen Seth outright admit, multiple times, that he could change, but didn’t want to. Or maybe he really is unable to and doesn’t know it. I wonder if this is similar to Caleb and April in some way, and how Caleb’s decisions actively shape April’s personality. It doesn’t seem the same as their bind, though.

    I remember Lilith telling him that he’d asked her to make him forget about “her” for a reason. We assumed it was Angeline back then, but she might have been talking about Bob – and if it was Seth that asked Lilith to erase Bob, then… hm. I’m missing bits and pieces. Maybe it really was Angeline, and Bob made him forget about her, herself. Though I have no idea why she’d do that.

    Seth’s eyes changing at the very end is interesting, too. I always thought that it maybe resembled a part of their personality or something, but seeing Seth’s eyes change to the same ones as Bob puts things in a very different light. April has the same blue eyes as Caleb, and so does Faith. I’m assuming Lilith would have them, if not for X event that caused her to have just a black void instead.
    So that leaves Melinda. She had the same cloudy eyes as Seth, and Seth couldn’t remember Bob until just now. Was unaware of her? Disconnected from her? I have no idea. But it makes me wonder what happened with April and Melinda. Faith has the blue eyes, so that seems to have gone just fine. Only Melinda is different. Why is that?

    Gah, so many puzzle pieces and I don’t know where any of them go. I’m going to take the lot of them and re-read from the beginning. And then probably slam my head on the table a few times because it’s so obvious in hindsight. 😁

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    1. …Are you sure it’s not a heron?

      *Firmly shoves on neutral hat and holds it there while saying ‘lalala’* You are not misremembering; this group did prey on society’s outcasts to increase their numbers and that is what is happening here. Even these rogues had a hierarchy and Seth is very much learning his place at the bottom of the ladder.

      Nothing excuses anything; we all make choices.

      I remember Lilith telling him that he’d asked her to make him forget about “her” for a reason” is that exactly what she said? 😉

      You’re so close with your eyes theory! Melinda should have baby blue ones, yes, as should Lilith as they all, in essence, are the same vampire family. Linger around your description of ‘clouded’ and add in a sprinkle of Seth remembering (not just remembering Kitty) and you might get an inkling of Melinda’s reason. If not, and it’s bugging you, I’ll tell you privately, because you’re so close.

      Ouch, that’s a violent method. Some things you’ve learned in book two might make you slam your head on the table, but it if you want the full-blown concussion, I’d wait until the very end before you re-read. But, y’know, it’s your skull. Don’t let me tell you what to do with it.

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  4. Someone must’ve said this already but I really love the first pic. So sombre, so eerie and dead. /Sigh. Also, I love the custom stargazing pose!

    Ok What? The tower existed back then? Sounds like it was as it is now, for ‘patients’ to be ‘isolated’ for everyone’s benefit. So was Wangshafts running the tower then too?

    Angeline is a mage! Oh! And does she have any connection with Beth Wangshaft? Her in her stargazing pose reminds me of Beth for some reason. And Angeline is a vegetarian. 😮 Does that mean John’s a mage too? Well I… don’t know what to think about that lol. Side note, away with the fairies sound beautiful to me. But I suppose back then anything out of the ordinary is a life sentence.

    What spell is Angeline casting? Can’t just be a random sort of ingredients. Also stork with bag? First thing that comes to mind has something to do with babies. O.o Seth has a kid!?

    I hope it was only that one time that the damn priest did it and not a few times before Angeline made the decision not to go to church. Now I can’t help but make the connection between Angeline’s mental forays and what happened to her. Also, how many preists are there? If one, Harriet’s dad is a molester.. >_>

    “Angeline, will you entangle with my soul and rot for eternity with me in hell?” Lol this phrase says so much about what Seth thinks about himself. Makes me laugh so hard lest I cry from it. My guess is that Angeline will probably ridicule him for even making the suggestion until he regrets it so bad, then accept him. Idk, I’m trying to think up my own happy ending here because it didn’t happen dangit. 😀

    And this chapter answers what happened to all those rogue vampires featured at the start of S2 and what Seth thinks about them.

    Of course Seth would see it that way. Even if he didn’t acquire a twisted Stockholm syndrome response towards Kitty what else could’ve been the right response in that moment. -.-
    I must’ve missed something when Patrick drew Seth’s blood. What did he taste from it. Or is he expressing his yearning to kill Seth, or showing that he can take Seth’s life away just like that.

    I’ve never seen Seth’s eyes glow yellow like that. His was white. What is this? Now that he remembers, does it change his vampiric powers? It can’t be a coincidence that his eyes are the same as Kitty’s. Idk if Faith is reacting to him having yellow eyes or is it a reaction more towards his story. Does this mean that Seth has a master/mistress? Does this mean Seth is Kitty’s bind? Is that why Seth is so keen on not having any binds? Also is Kitty dead?

    I forgot to ask from last chapter but was that Robert? Has he un-lived throughout? 😀

    I don’t know if this makes sense to you, but reading Seth’s backstory makes me feel a sense of calm. Seth’s experiences are horrible, and Kitty and her entourage makes me want to say a lot of super nice things in all the languages I know. But yup, somehow calmness is actually overriding even that. I got my own weird whacked out reasons with no backing but just thought I’d share anyway.

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    1. Ooh no, no one said that but thanks. I like that eerie, dead pic too. Thought it was a nice transition from happy ye olde world in part one into the craptown of part two.

      Yes, the Tower was well established by this point and as you can tell, was a wonderful place to be. Wangshafts have always run it, yep.

      Angeline is a witch and a vegetarian, yes. Everyone in AE is connected. 😉

      She was casting something to do with babies, yep. We already know that Angeline was Sage’s mother, so… maybe he does.

      The first time the priest came on to Angeline, she stopped going to church. There is only one priest so yep, that’s Harriet’s dad. Perhaps another reason Seth is so reluctant to give Harriet the time of day.

      Seth, ever the romantic. 😂 That is precisely what Angeline would have done, yes. They could have run off, had Sage and been a happy little family of outcasts.

      Definitely some sort of Stockholm Syndrome going on here. Plus, Seth tends towards fixation and obsession. Shame for Kitty that he’s still so hell bent on obsessing over Angeline.
      The last one; that’s Patrick demonstrating that he could end Seth whenever he wanted and not to get cocky about stuff.

      Seth’s eyes have reverted! Typically, a vampire’s eyes should match their sire’s, unless something has gone awry or something is missing in their identifiers. More on this later as we still have a milky-eyed and a void-eyed vamp among the cast.

      So many questions! All in good time.

      I felt calm after this chapter because it’s been written for months and I finally got it out the way, so maybe you’re sharing my calm? 😆🤣 Maybe it’s a ‘now you know’ feeling? I dunno. But thanks for sharing. 😁

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m pretty sure its a ‘now I know’ feeling. I remember hypothesizing that Seth had a child slave laborer who would make street kids rob people for them. His own dad though, ugh. Please die, Seth dad. Oh wait he did. Poetic justice. They should’ve thrown confetti on Seth. Lol how many sims have I condemned to the gallows in your story already? XD

        Angeline is Sage’s mother? Is it in this chapter? My brain is obviously mushed bananas if i read for the second time and didn’t get it. 🤦🏻‍♀️

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I think at some point you’ve sent most of them to the gallows. 😆 Yeah you did! I think back then you were hypothesising that Kitty was the one sending him out to rob people but she just sent him out to kill people it was his own dad.

          Angeline is Sage’s mother, yes. It was a little flashback in chapter 2.52 where Sage is thinking about her mother. Easy to miss, your brain is fine. 🍌

          Liked by 1 person

          1. Actually its Caleb, Seth, Sandy and Bavs. Then I retracted Bavs. Oh no. This list is terribly small. 🤔 can’t live up to my name. We’ll put Kitty and Roberto and Wilbur and Will. AH. There we go! Seven! Almost full house 😆

            Thanks for the link!

            Liked by 1 person

  5. I just want to say that I finished this over the weekend but iPad was dumb and wouldn’t let me comment but I wanted to tell you how friggen incredible this story was and I cannot stop thinking about it and I cannot wait until the next book.

    I know this a run-on sentence and I’m sorry but I CANNOT GRAMMAR when this was so good. My emotions are all twisted up, my love for Seth has been vindicated (okay, he is a messed up terrible creature still…I don’t why I’m like this) and I think I love Sage? I don’t know who I am rooting for (all of them except Caleb) and I am taking notes on how to craft a masterful narrative with complex characters who are messy as hell and compelling as hell and I just want to live in their universe.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. How did I not notice this comment? Maybe it got filtered out because it contains too much praise.

      You love Sage? Hurrah! Someone does!

      I mean sheesh, everything in that last couple of lines can totally be applied to BBD too, but thanks so much. I’m not good with compliments so I’m gonna go back to my hole now and let the inner voice berate me for a while to balance it out. 😆

      Liked by 1 person

        1. Harsh inner voices seem to be a thing among simlit writers, so they most definitely conspire. I can see them now, drinking vermouth and coming up with new ways to tell us how very crap we are.
          I drown mine out with heavy metal. 😁

          Liked by 1 person

  6. Sheeesh. So dad was horrible, Kathryn was the demonic bitch I thought she´d been and even Angeline can actually go pet a cowplant if you ask me because “the kindest thing” anyone ever did for Seth apparently isn´t saying much. :/

    *sigh* At least the mental screech-image seems to be a memory, but that last scene definitely doesn´t sound good. My hope at this point is that Kathryn might have seen a bind as a burden and thus wouldn´t do that because what would she have to gain… but I´m definitely not holding my breath. DX

    Also still worried about the shapeshifting, now even more than before.

    Like

    1. Aha! You reached the end. Yes, everyone was horrible but oof, poor Angeline.

      Kathryn’s opinions on binding will be made clear one day, I’m sure, but Seth was already well on the way to obeying anyway, so yes, hopefully she didn’t see too much to gain. Definitely don’t hold your breath because that’s a long time to be without oxygen until you get an answer.

      Like

      1. Yes, I have. And I know I´m being mean but the part with “okay, I´ll bury you after” just made me unable to can, even though it worked. -.- And I mean… when I say “pet a cowplant” it isn´t even that mean, is it? Because Angeline of course wouldn´t try to eat the cake, because a cowplant has a face, obviously. Right? 😀

        Anyway, I crawled through the new profiles too and dredged up one more shocker from there. Spoon. Angeline /Spoon/. Well, that certainly explains a few things. 😮 Including what kind of problem Wilbur has with that family, I dare guess, if the Spoons have been kinda strange for a few generations now. Of course, now I´m wondering how are Sage and Jess´s mum related.

        Like

        1. Hehe, Angeline certainly had a weird way of dealing with things. Now you’ve got me wondering if she would eat the cake. Do cowplants have eyes? Is it an entire face? I feel a hidden scene coming on.

          Ooh, there are a lot of nuggets on the character pages. I can’t quite share the link tree yet that shows how everyone is connected but those two are connected via Angeline’s uncle.

          Like

          1. …well, no. A cowplant does not have eyes… >.> XDD

            I see! And I might have to look even more carefully, then. 🙂

            Like

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