Dark laughter suddenly jolted you back into consciousness, and you scrambled away from the sound.  

“Oh...c’est bon, ma chere…”  

Recognizing Monsieur Boudreaux’s voice, you stood on your feet, surreptitiously looking around to orient yourself.  

His voice was soft.  “Mademoiselle...what do you look like?”

Looking down, you saw that your gown had been ruined--torn, and covered in dirt.  The whole room smelled of earth. Earth and something rich, and buttery warm.

“Monsieur Boudreaux, why am I here?”

“You come to the point.  One of the many traits I admire about you.”  He clapped his hands, and you jumped at the sheer volume of the noise in the enclosed space.  “I’ll respond in kind. You are in the basement of my home, and you are here because it is my will.”

“Are you going to let me free?”

“Bien sur, ma cherie!  You are free to leave at any time.”  He held a hand toward the staircase.

“Is this a trick?”

“Mais non!  I swear by my own name, that I will in no way endeavour to restrain you, should you decide to leave.”

Lifting your skirts, you purposefully strode toward the staircase, and were halfway up, when--

“Ah...there’s just one thing.”

You froze, his low silky tone sending shudders down your spine.  

“You don’t want to take your lover?”

Whirling around, you looked at him in shock.  “You forget yourself, Monsieur Boudreaux!”

He held up his hands, a predatory smile on his face.  “Peut-etre. That was remiss of me, I wholehearted apologize for my impertinence.  Perhaps I should have said...your affianced?”

“Monsieur Kim?  Where is he?”

Your reaction seemed to delight Monsieur Boudreaux, as he paused in momentary surprise, before laughing as if you had dropped a particularly witty bon mot. Then, gracefully stepping to the side, he elegantly indicated a dark pile on the packed earth floor.  

Frowning, you sharpened your eyes. Upon recognizing the pile was actually the crumpled form of a man, you uttered a wordless cry and, rushing forward, you dropped to your knees, and turned him over--

It was Jongin.  Pale and perfect, he lay in your arms, as burning cold as frost.  Before you could react, Monsieur Boudreaux was pulling you up, pulling you away, dragging you from your heart.  

“Oh, don’t touch that old dead thing.  It’ll get blood all over your pretty dress.”

Your head jerked around him to see a splash of bright scarlet staining Jongin’s snow white collar.  Rounding on Monsieur Boudreaux, you fought his hold, snatching back your arm, pulling back, and slapping him with all of your strength.  

He flew across the room, to hit the wall with a sickening thud, and crumple to the ground with another.  

Unable to process what had just occurred, you stood there, staring at his body on the floor.  

With a groan, he righted himself, standing from the ground with some effort, stretching his neck one way, then another until you heard something snap, and he sighed in relief.  “Ma foi! That was woefully impolite, Mademoiselle!” he chastised. “You’re going to have to learn how to rein your temper!”

Shaking now, too fearful to say a thing, you watched him warily as he approached as carefully as if he were trying not to startle a wild horse.  “What is the meaning of this?” you rasped, voice low, as you struggled to hold on to control, to sanity.

He looked almost surprised.  “The meaning of…? Ah, oui. Eh, bien, the meaning of this,” he said, indicating Jongin, “is that you ended the life your beloved Monsieur Kim.”

“I?” you said in disbelief.  “Say something that makes sense!”

“What is sense?  What is sensible to one is unthinkable to another.”

“Speak plainly, Monsieur!”

“Mais non! I am enjoying myself too thoroughly!”  

A growl rumbled in your chest, and you started in shock.

“Ah, there you are…” he said, his voice satisfied.  “Gloriana...”

“What...what is--?” you faltered, your knees weak.

Faster than anything you had ever seen, Monsieur Boudreaux was behind you, wrapping his arms around you, wheeling you around, and gripping your chin in an iron hold to face a broken mirror leaning against a corner.  Leaning down, his mouth pressed against your ear, breath scalding, as he began to whisper. “Look at what yo