Monsieur Kim crouched next to you, as you wordlessly looked up at him, eyes filled with distressed censure.  

“I had to,” he said simply.  “Despite the past...I’d not consign you to this shadowed half-existence, if I had the power to avert it.”

Monsieur Boudreaux moved quickly, coming to stand between you, and your attacker.

Closing your eyes, you collapsed flat against the ground, too exhausted and pained to do more than concentrate on breathing.  You brought a trembling hand once more to the stake but, seeing your movement out of the corner of his eye, Monsieur Boudreaux half turned his face to you, saying, “Leave it in, chère fille. If you take it out now, without feeding, you will bleed to death.”

With a conciliatory air, he turned back to the stranger, who had made no attempts to leave, saying, “I apologize for my ward’s impertinence, monsieur; you can assign her lack of manners to my charge.”

“She robbed me of my gustation, sir.”

“What were you eating?”

The stranger shrugged.  “Just some girl.”

Monsieur Boudreaux nodded, and spread his hands apologetically.  “Eh, bien, you see, she’s rather sensitive to that sort of thing.”  He looked around, consideringly. “However...the night is young. I’m sure that you’ll quickly be able to find something to eat, if you leave now.”

The man smiled. “Just so.  However, I’m not inclined to let this discourtesy stand.  My grievance is with her, not you. Give her to me, and I’ll be on my way.”

Monsieur Boudreaux shook his head, a rueful smile ghosting about his mouth.  “I’ve already named her my ward...therefore you are fully aware that I cannot do that.”

Smiling again, the stranger answered, “Perhaps, sir.  But now my blood is up, and your little ward didn’t provide me with enough of a fight to cool my ire.”

Nodding again, Monsieur Boudreaux looked at the ground.  With a powerful spring, he was suddenly upon the man, his large hand wrapped around the shorter man’s throat.  Eyes wide, he asked, in an eerily calm voice, “Is this enough fight for you, monsieur” before digging his claws into the man’s neck, and ripping out part of his spine, through his throat.

The man’s blood pattered in an arc across the square, across your face, and you started in dreadful revulsion, but couldn’t draw in enough breath to scream.  This was so much more brutal, so much more visceral than your way.

Monsieur Kim was still crouched next to you, his expression grim, as you both watched Monsieur Boudreaux calmly drag the stranger’s body, by his ruined neck, over to you.  As he approached, you saw in mounting horror that the man was still alive, his head flopping grotesquely, his jaw working as if he were trying to speak.

You tried to drag yourself away, but your arms merely skittered across the cobblestones.  

Monsieur Kim rose suddenly, putting his body between you, and the approaching Monsieur Boudreaux.  “What is the meaning of this, sir?”

“Step aside, or I will walk right through you, miserable spectre,” Monsieur Boudreaux pronounced, his tone dismissive.  

Monsieur Kim set his jaw.  “Stop! Can you not see that you’re terrifying her?”

“This, fantôme, is the only way to save her!”

After taking a moment to search Monsieur Boudreaux’s eyes, Monsieur Kim stepped aside.  

Monsieur Boudreaux crouched in front of you, wrapping his other hand around the stake, and abruptly pulling it out and throwing it away.

Your body jerked at its removal, and blood started to spurt from the wound in earnest, pouring down your shoulders to pool beneath you on the ground.  Fiery pain roared through your , and your vision began to darken.

Monsieur Boudreaux took the man, and unceremoniously shoved his throat into your mouth.  Convulsively, you swallowed, but then tried to turn your head. Monsieur Boudreaux your hair, crooning, “Non, non, ma petite, this is what you need to become well.  A human would be better, but this will have to do.”

You closed your mouth, refusing to drink, turning your head from the ruin of the man who had attacked you.  

Tutting, Monsieur Boudreaux remonstrated, “Ma chère, I’ve no desire to force you, but I will.”   

Looking up, you caught Monsieur Kim’s eye.  He nodded once, grimly. You shook your head.  

“Do it,” he said, his voice low.  

You closed your eyes, and clenched your teeth, fighting against the almost overwhelming desire to grab the man by the hair, bury your face into his neck, and drink until he was no more than dry bones.  Then you heard it.

“Please.  Please, mademoiselle.  Please drink. Please. Don’t leave me.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze met Monsieur Kim’s, and he was on his knees beside you, his expression stricken.  

Closing your eyes from the gruesome sight before you, you turned, opened your mouth, and drank.

***

You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar room.  Sitting up, you looked around to see Monsieur Kim sitting in a chair in the corner.  

His attention snapped to you as soon as you sat up, and he stood and walked over, sitting beside you and reaching for your hands, before realization came over his face, and he subsided.

“Where am I?” you queried.

He grimaced.  “You’re in Monsieur Boudreaux’s home.  He carried you here, after...the incident.”

Eyes widening in shock, you threw back the covers, and stood, only to waver, and fall back to the bed.  A familiar pain that you hadn’t felt in months clawed its way up your stomach, and seized your throat, and you groaned.

“Mademoiselle!” Monsieur Kim exclaimed.  “Are you still unwell? Please, sit still for a moment, and compose yourself.”

“Monsieur Kim,” you panted, eyes glazed with pain as you looked up at him.  “Do you hate me this much? Why didn’t you let this wretched existence end when there was a chance?”

His face paled, and his expression was nothing short of horrified. He shook his head, eyes never leaving yours, as his face became stern, almost angry.  “Mademoiselle, you will not say anything like that ever again, do you hear? I forbid it!”

“Forbid?” You laughed mirthlessly.  “I detest what I am! You detest what I am.  You asked me not to leave you alone, but what else is keeping you here?  It only makes sense that upon my demise, you will be set free!”

“I refuse to hear any more of this nonsense!”

You turned away.  “Then leave.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because you’re still hurt.”

“I’ll be fine!” you growled bitterly.  “That’s just it. No matter what happens, I’m always fine!  So, go!”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I wish to be alone.”

“I care not.”

“Why won’t you leave me to be miserable in peace?!”

“Because I still love you!”

You stopped breathing, your eyes wide, as you stared at each other.

The door opened, and in strode Monsieur Boudreaux.  “Finally, you’re awake!”

“Finally?!” you echoed, still dumbfounded over Monsieur Kim’s confession.  Dazedly, you inquired, “How long have I been here?”

“A number of days,” Monsieur Kim answered.  

Face blanching, you struggled once more to rise.  “My parents! How can I ever explain? I--”

“Calm yourself, chérie,” Monsieur Boudreaux crooned.  “I spoke to that lady’s maid of yours, and she has concocted a story about your being sick in your room, all this time, with the congestive fever.  She has remained in your room, to ostensibly tend to you.”

“You spoke to Cosette?”

“I told him that she knows,” Monsieur Kim said.