Author's Note: Here it is! The last chapter of Sanguinarian! I hope you all enjoy and feel free to leave some feedback! Thank you so much for all the support and feel free to check out my other stories!
Chapter Fifteen-Return
"You take care of her, Gus!" Rosella cried out, standing on the front porch of her house. "She's your wife!" Gus only rolled his eyes and smiled at his mother in law. He adored her to bits and pieces, but she could certainly be a bit much at times.
Gus smiled as his little boy-who had just turned five-ran out of the house and towards his father, wrapping his little arms around him.
"And how's my little James doing today?" he asked, picking the little boy up. He only giggled and pressed his lips against his cheek. "Where's your mother?"
"Getting the baby ready," James replied. "Mama told me to ask you if you put the carseat in!"
"That I did do. Come on, go and get in the car. All the luggage is already in there." He let James go and watched the little boy scramble into the car. His wife exited the house and Gus could not help but smile. She was beautiful-her long, raven locks had been let loose and her jean jacket seemed to be tailored just for her. She held their baby-a girl who was only a little over three months old-and had wrapped at least five blankets around the child. "Jesus, Isabelle-we're going to Vegas, not Alaska."
"She's still a newborn and can get ill very easily," Isabelle replied as she approached the car. "And you need a shave." She smiled as she placed her baby in the carseat and kissed her forehead. She made her way over to her mother and said her goodbyes before heading back into the car. In a matter of moments, the Fournecellis were off.
"You scared?" Gus asked as he drove towards the freeway. Isabelle quickly shook her head. "I know you've never really gotten over it." Isabelle's face became white and she turned her gaze towards the window.
"We don't discuss these things in front of the children," Isabelle mumbled. No, she had never truly gotten over her rape and torture. She had gone to the psychiatrist and pursued help, but there were still days where she refused to even step out of the house and nights where she would wake in a fit of hysterics. "I packed my medication, if that's what you wanted to know."
"Isabelle...I didn't mean to bring it up. I'm sorry, okay?" Isabelle took a deep breath. "I love you." Oh, there was certainly no doubt that he loved her. The two sleeping children in the back were more than proof enough. He remembered Isabelle's first pregnancy and how nervous she had been. She seemed yo have gone to the doctor's office almost everyday and was, somehow, too careful. But James' birth had been a smooth one. Their second child had been unplanned, but Isabelle had loved it from the moment she had found out she was pregnant. To think that it had only been three months ago that Isabelle had almost died in labor. That she had lost so much blood but had somehow survived. To think that it had only been three months ago that their little Hope had been born.
"I love you too," she replied, grabbing his hand. "I know you're worried about me, but I'm okay. I'm recovering. He's dead, you know."
"Doesn't change the fact that he..." Gus couldn't bear to finish the statement. "Look, if we need to come back, we'll come back. Alright?"
"Alright."
The Fournecellis arrived in Las Vegas in the dead of night; they were staying in a hotel off the strip, which certainly seemed to make Isabelle happy. They brought their suitcases up to their room and immediately fell asleep.
The shower was what woke Gus. He sat up on the bed and glanced around the room. His children were asleep and Isabelle was not beside him. He made his way to the shower and smiled at Isabelle when he saw her running her fingers through her wet hair inside the shower.
"Can I join you?" Gus asked, already beginning to undress.
"Of course," was Isabelle's soft reply. Gus slipped into the large shower, allowing himself a soft sigh as soon as he felt the warm water drip on his naked flesh. He wrapped his arms around Isabelle's waist and pressed his lips against her neck as one of his hands traveled to her scarred, swollen breast. "Gus..."
"Those scars make you a warrior." Isabelle could only managed a small laugh as he began rubbing her breast, his fingertips gently tapping on the white, scarred area of her flesh. "You're beautiful; you know that?"
"Yes," she whispered and allowed herself a gentle moan as she felt hid other hand cup her privates. "Oh, Gus...m-"
"Mommy! Daddy!" Gus' hands immediately left Isabelle and the woman only grunted in response. James often interrupted them at the most unfortunate of times.
"Tonight," Gus mumbled as he pecked her cheek and got out of the shower. "When the kids are asleep, I promise." Isabelle smiled and continued her shower as Gus went to go and tend to James.
Life was fine. She had a husband and two children she absolutely adored. The horrific events that she had experienced were but a distant memory now. They shouldn't have haunted her. And yet, they did. She often dreamt of Boris and his large, vicious grin. In her dream, she would be strapped to a table, her arms bound and her legs forced apart in stirrups. The room was dimmed and all she could see was a pair of crimson eyes peering at her in the darkness. She would then look down and cry out in horror. She was naked and her belly was large-she was pregnant.
The labor pains began and Isabelle writhed against the restraints as Boris whispered nothing into her ear. The pains only became worse by the second and, before she could fully comprehend anything, she heard ungodly shrieking. The lights flickered on to reveal Gus in a corner, his eyes gouged out and his guts spilled onto the floor as maggots devoured him. Boris would approach her and show her the child- a pallid, skinny thing that looked more bat than human and had Boris' same horrifying gaze.
That was when Isabelle would wake, shrieking and sobbing. She had never told Gus what she dreamt about. She never could. That was all it was. A mere dream. Yes, Boris was dead and she had been the one to kill me. She had spent a month in the hospital recovering and had quickly and quietly been married to Gus seven years ago.
It had happened. She had the scars to prove it. The event had made her anything but weaker. She had survived. She was a warrior.
"Isabelle! Gus!" Jerry cried out as he opened the door, ecstatic to see his daughter and son in law once more. "And there's little James...who's that baby in your arms?"
"Hope," Isabelle replied, kissing the baby's forehead. "I fed her on the way over here, so she's fast asleep."
"Come in in, guys." The family entered and began to scan the house. It was the same one that Jerry had lived in for years, but it was now cleaned up and freshly painted. "Anna painted the place up for me."
"Anna?" Isabelle raised a brow and turned towards James, who was playing with a German Shepherd. She turned back to her father, wearing a slight smirk on her face. "And since when did you get the dog?"
"Anna's my girlfriend-and that's her dog, Prince. And Prince really likes James."
"James loves animals," Gus began. "You should see him and his turtle."
"Is that Anna?" Isabelle asked as she gazed at a pretty, silver haired woman in one of the photographs that decorated the wall.
"That's Anna, alright."
"I'm glad you found love again, Dad...how long have you been dating?"
"Four years-I'm proposing to her tonight." Isabelle and Gus grinned at him. "How long are you staying here?"
"About two weeks," Gus began. "I've got a case starting on Monday. Isabelle and the kids are going to be staying with you during the day...you know Isabelle gets scared. so can you please take care of her?"
I'm right here you know," Isabelle mumbled. "And I can take care of myself, thank you very much." She managed a gentle smile. "But me and the kids can stay with Dad if it'll make you feel better." Gus managed a chuckle.
"Do you want to go out for lunch?" Jerry asked. "My treat." Isabelle nodded and the family made their way towards Jerry's car. Isabelle found herself watching the scenery of the city as her father drove. She vaguely remembered the hotels and the street signs-everything seemed so calm during the daylight. So different than the chaos that was present throughout the night. She could barely remember the scenery; all she remembered was Boris' house-so cold, so dark, s-
"Isabelle, are you alright?" Gus mumbled, pressing his hand against hers. Isabelle nodded slowly. "You're not alright...you didn't have to come, you know."
"I did. I needed to learn how to recover- I need to be here," she replied, her voice low and tense. "I need to learn how to cope. I'm going to be fine."
"Did you take your pills?"
"Yes!" She averted her gaze and continued to watch the world fly by.
The Point had been torn down and a new hotel had been built there. No one seemed to remember the grand hotel that had been standing there for decades. And those who did never spoke of it. No one remembered The Basement or all of the people that checked in-but never checked out. No one remembered the blood stains on the carpet or the bones found underground. No one remembered the ginger haired receptionist who had merely disappeared one day and no one remembered the tunnels that led to an old, abandoned home. No one remembered The Point.
No one except three people who entered the hotel that had taken The Point's place. They remembered everything. The building of the hotel and the ginger receptionist and the night club. They remembered selling the place and they remembered it being demolished and turned into dust.
And then they had left. They lived in England now, wanting a change in climate and scenery. But tonight, they had returned. They had returned to what now merely seemed to be an unpleasant dream.
"I wonder if the tunnels still exist," the blonde haired man with the ponytail began. "I wonder if the house is even there."
"Why do you want to know, Jack?" the tall, raven haired woman replied. "If I found that house again, I would have set a match to it."
"Of course you would." Jack smirked at Antoinette and wrapped his arms around Max, who always seemed so silent now. Ever since Boris' death, the girl's usual chatty nature became quiet and melancholy. "You okay, Max?"
"Mhm," was her quiet reply. But she was far from alright. She had learned that even someone she loved could be so horrid. That he had merely put on a facade. "I'll be fine."
"Max; you don't have to lie to me."
"I'm not lying to you-I'm sorry I'm not in a talkative mood."
"M-"
"Let's go to the casino for a while, okay? Then we'll take a walk in the middle of the night. Like old times sake, okay?"
"Max, we're not living in the old times. You act as if things haven't changed, but they have. They've changed for the best. I love you Max and I want what's best for you. Let's check in and tale a little nap, okay?" He pressed a kiss against her cheek and managed a sweet smile. Max slowly nodded and walked up to the front desk.
"I already checked in for you," Antoinette began, holding out a key for them. "You're welcome." She smiled at the two and Jack grabbed the key and began to lead Max to the room.
"Hey," Max started, "after we take a nap, do you think that we could go and take that walk...like old times? Please?"
"Sure," Jack replied, smiling. "Like old times."
Gus traced his fingertip against Isabelle's bare skin, pressing kisses against her neck. He pulled a blanket over her and kissed her neck once more.
"I love you," he whispered. Isabelle managed a gentle smile. "Do you know how much I love you?"
"Enough to have worn protection this time around," Isabelle replied.
"You have no sense of romance, do you?"
"None at all." The two laughed and Gus wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer to him. "It's a miracle we didn't wake up the children."
"I don't think anything can wake the kids up-Hope seems to be asleep all the time."
"She's a newborn."
"Yes, but James was a far...louder baby."
"That's because he tales after you." Gus frowned and rolled his eyes at her? "Are your feelings hurt yet?"
"Isabelle, you couldn't hurt a fly if you tried." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you came, Isabelle."
"You should come with me to the art installation gala tomorrow night. Dad said he would take care of the kids."
"You're going to that?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"They accepted one of my works-it's up for auction." A smile grew on Gus' lips and he pressed them against hers.
"We should have sex to celebrate."
"Do all men think with their dicks or is it just you? Because I honestly can't tell."
"Hey, I don't always think with my dick. Certainly not when I'm in the courtroom."
"So you only think with your dick when I'm around?" Gus laughed and shook his head. "Do you want to know a secret? I kind of like it."
"You're horrible at trying to seduce me, you know." He kissed her forehead and smirked. "Do you want to go and walk around the strip right now?"
"With a five year old and a three month old in tow? No thank you."
"Don't be a spoil sport! Come on, James'll like it and Hope will probably be sleeping or latching onto your tit." Isabelle remained silent for a moment, but smirked. "Come on, it'll be like one of James' field trips. Except instead of going to the same, boring natural history museum, we'll be going to a ton of neon lit places."
"Fine, we'll go. Let's get dressed and wake the kids up."
The house still existed. It stood on a road that had been abandoned some time ago. It seemed to tower over all the other abandoned houses in the darkness. It was tall, painted a dark brown that had already begun to grey, and the front door had been torn down when the paramedics had entered the house and found two injured men and a girl who had miscarried-at least that was what she had told them. But they knew better.
It was strange to think that it had been less than ten years since the house had been occupied. That it had been less than ten years since a young woman had been taken captive. That it had been less than ten years since the ginger haired receptionist and a red eyed creature had roamed the halls of this sad, old house.
Now there was silence. When Antoinette had left, she had taken nothing with her. The television-now outdated-still remained. There was the fridge, the dining table, the beds, the cue sticks. The tunnel.
The tunnel now led to a parking complex-but no one used it to travel. Only mice and pigeons were stupid enough to make their way from the garage to the house. Mice and pigeons. And, at times, teenagers who wanted to see the bloodstains and the ashes. Teenagers with ouija boards who wanted to summon the spirit of the unborn child-Teenagers who made up fantastical tales of spirits and werewolves that lurked in the deepest corners of the house.
The house still existed. It stood there, slowly withering away under the harsh desert sun. Perhaps, one day, someone would buy the slowly decaying home and either renovate it or demolish it. But for now, it remained. It remained as a monument od the deceased. Of the undead.
Of the unnatural.
"Where's Antoinette?" Jack began as he pulled on his sneakers. "I want to go and walk."
"Of course you do," Max replied, buttoning her shirt. "And she's in the restroom, getting herself ready."
"For who? Is she trying to impress some old rich man?"
"No, she's not. Is it a crime for a woman to want to look pretty?"
"Not at all." He turned to face Max and managed a small smile. "You're talking again."
"I can't keep living in the past, Jack...I think it's time to start living in the present."
"I love you." Max remained silent for a moment but managed another smile. "I love you so much, Max."
"Get me my coat if you love me so much."
"Why do you need a coat in the middle of summer?"
"Fashion statement." Jack only smirked and threw the coat at her. Antoinette walked out of the restroom moments later and managed a gentle smile at her granddaughter and her husband.
"Are we ready?" Antoinette asked.
"Yeah," Jack replied. "Let's go." The three headed out of the room and into the crowded nightlife of the Vegas strip. Music played and drunkards sang along and thousands of scents filled their nostrils-they stopped.
It was the scent of roses. Of lavender. Of fresh linen. Of steel.
"Isabelle," Max mumbled. She shifted her gaze between Jack and Antoinette for a moment and smiled.
She was approaching them. Approaching them with the same man they had met years ago, a little brown haired boy, and a small baby in her arms. Yes, it was Isabelle.
Isabelle and her family continued to approach the three of them, unsure of who they were. She absentmindedly bumped shoulders with Antoinette. Isabelle turned, perhaps to apologize, and caught gazes with Antoinette.
Isabelle knew. Isabelle knew who she was. The woman who had shown pity to her when no one else had.
She smiled.
Antoinette smiled in return.
And then they continued to walk in opposite directions.
THE END