Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 93: Cost of Coming Home

The carriage slowed as it reached Brackenwell and came to a creaking halt. Ruelle stepped down, her trunk set carefully at her feet. For a moment she stood watching the carriage wheels roll away, the familiar rattle fading into the narrow road.

She drew in a breath that smelt of wood smoke. Home at last, she thought to herself with a smile. She then took hold of the trunk’s handle before pulling it towards the house.

A few villagers noticed her at once. Heads turned with their voices lowered. One of the men nudged the fellow beside him and muttered,

"Looks like Harold Belmont’s troubles are finally coming to an end."

"With his gambling habits? Hardly," the other man snorted. He shamelessly traced the figure Ruelle had begun to fill out.

"I think Sexton will put a price on her. High enough to settle debts, I’d wager," whistled the first one.

Their words never reached Ruelle. She was too far away and far too occupied with the pleasant mood to notice the murmurs trailing behind her.

When she reached the front door of her house, she set her trunk aside and knocked. A moment later it was opened by her mother.

"Mother, I am home," Ruelle greeted brightly.

Mrs. Belmont stood in the doorway, her expression faltering for the briefest moment as her eyes swept over Ruelle’s well-tailored dress, the polished shoes, and the healthy colour in her cheeks.

"Good. You are here after all. It seems my letter reached you," Mrs. Belmont said with a slight smile.

"It did," Ruelle replied, stepping forward and embracing her mother, warmth filling her chest. "Forgive me for not visiting the past weekends. I was caught up with things."

"So I see," Megan murmured as a faint crease appeared between her brows. She asked, "It seems you have been doing well in Sexton?"

Though Mrs. Belmont’s words were meant to ask about earnings, Ruelle mistook them as concern for her wellbeing. She nodded and replied,

"Yes, I have been doing well, Mother. How have you and Father been?"

"We have been managing. Your father kept asking when you might come. He will be pleased to see you. Let me help you with the trunk. You must be tired from the journey," Mrs. Belmont took the trunk from Ruelle’s hands with an eagerness that almost seemed kind. She then said, "Why don’t you go wash up?"

Those simple words were enough to brighten Ruelle’s mood. She replied, "Okay."

Once Ruelle disappeared down the corridor, Mrs. Belmont set the trunk on the table and flipped it open. The older woman’s hands quickly rummaged through the things before her hands paused over a small velvet box. She picked it up.

And when she opened it, diamonds caught the light. Megan Belmont stared at the earrings in her palm.

"Sexton must be treating her very well... if I had to send a letter just to remind her to return," she murmured to herself.

She walked to her own room and murmured, "It wouldn’t do for something so valuable to get misplaced. I will keep these safe for you, Ruelle," and she set the earrings on the side table.

Ruelle closed the door of the room she shared with Caroline. Everything inside was exactly as she remembered it. From the mattress to the dressing table still scattered with Caroline’s old ribbons. Nothing had changed. And yet she felt oddly out of place standing there.

Perhaps it was because since the last few months, she had spent more time in Sexton than she had at home. How strange that before leaving for Sexton, she had been worried and she smiled at the thought of it.

She then tied her hair the way she used to when she was here. At Sexton she had fallen into the habit of letting her hair down, which had always kept her neck and ears hidden.

When Ruelle heard the sound of carriage wheels stopping in front of the house, she thought it was possibly Caroline who had arrived. But then she heard raised voices and she wondered what was going on outside. She made her way to the living room and at the same time the front door opened and her father stepped inside.

For a second, Ruelle nearly failed to recognise him.

His coat was rumpled, his hair untidy. There was a faint bruise darkening near his jaw, yet the man looked prideful.

"Harold!" Mrs. Belmont hurried forward at once, with an alarmed expression. "What happened?! Are you hurt?"

"Father—are you alright? Who—" Ruelle’s words faltered the moment she noticed two men stepping inside the house, right behind him.

Debt collectors. Their coats were respectable enough, but their boots were scuffed and muddied as though they had spent the night walking through streets rather than sitting at any gentleman’s table. One of them looked around the modest house with open disdain before his gaze returned to Mr. Belmont.

"You have some nerve," the man sneered, "thinking you could try running away and we wouldn’t find you."

"I told you I wasn’t running away!" Mr. Belmont answered through gritted teeth. "I was only going to visit my frie—"

"Speak another word and your face won’t be the only thing I damage," the first Halfling cut him off, spitting onto the floorboards. "You have enough coins to gamble through the night, but none to pay what you owe?"

"You said you would settle it today, Harold Belmont," the second Halfling added coolly. "Come on Saturday and take your money. Those were your words, weren’t they?"

The Halfling’s eyes moved to Mrs. Belmont and then they landed on Ruelle. He commented, "Looks like the daughter has returned too."

Ruelle stiffened beneath the sudden attention. The person’s gaze slid over her in a way that made her skin crawl and she felt the room shrink around her. Her hands curled at her sides as she fought the instinct to step backward.

She turned to her father without thinking, hoping for some reassurance. But he was already looking at her. Then, as though the answer had been obvious all along, he spoke,

"Ruelle, give them the money."

"What?" The word left her in a small, breathless whisper.

The first Hafling turned to her completely and stated, "Your father said you earn well, as you are in Sexton. Now hand over the money."

Ruelle stared at the man, her pulse racing and she managed to speak, "I—I don’t have that much money. I don’t earn anything there."

A harsh laugh burst from the Halfling’s mouth. He turned back to her father and said in a low, threatening voice,

"If you didn’t owe me such a large sum, I’d rip your head clean off your shoulders right this instant. But I guess an arm will do as well."

"No!" panic flashed across Mr. Belmont’s wrinkled face. "She has it. S-she’s just hesitant about it." He seized Ruelle by the arm, his fingers biting into her sleeve. He glared, saying, "Give it to him, Ruelle. We need it. This is not the time to be difficult."

Fear tightened in her chest, not knowing what to do. Her nails dug into her palms.

"If I had it, I would give it," Ruelle said, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm. "Truly, Father—I don’t."

Her heart hammered as she reached into her dress pocket with a shaking hand. She turned them out. Coins clinked softly into her palm, which was barely enough for the return journey to Sexton.

"This is all I have," she said, holding it out to the Halfling. "You can take it."

The man glanced at the small offering and scoffed.

"This? You expect us to be satisfied with a handful of change?" he asked in disbelief.

When the Halfling picked up one of the nearby chairs and threw it right at the wall, Ruelle and Mrs. Belmont flinched at the sudden crash. The sound rattled the very walls of the house.

Mrs. Belmont’s hand flew to her chest, her eyes darting nervously between the Halflings and her husband. For a fleeting moment, her thoughts went to the diamond earrings. But she said nothing about them. Instead, the older woman turned her gaze sharply on Ruelle. Confusion hardened into irritation in her eyes. Did this ungrateful girl spend all the money on her new clothes and shoes?!

"Pay me now or hand over the papers of this house. I’m done waiting," the Halfling said flatly with his patience that had grown thin.

The words struck like a hammer. Mrs. Belmont clasped her hands together and pleaded,

"Mister, please," she bowed her head. "Our other daughter will be visiting today. She married well. Her husband is a respectable man. He will be more than willing to assist. Only give us a little more time."

"Time?" the Halfling repeated with a sneer. "I’ve heard promises before."

Mr. Belmont straightened at those words, colour rising to his face. "I gave you my word, didn’t I?" he snapped. "I am not some beggar off the street!"

The Halfling’s expression darkened. The next second his hand shot out and clamped around Mr. Belmont’s neck.

Ruelle gasped, while Mrs. Belmont let out a small cry. The Halfling hissed, leaning close to Mr. Belmont’s face, "Your word has been costing me interest."

Mr. Belmont’s jaw tightened, pride and fear floating in his eyes. He struggled before he was shoved roughly which nearly sent him stumbling. He coughed hard, clutching his neck, then forced himself to stand upright.

"I said I would settle it and I will," he insisted hoarsely. "There will be money. What I need is time."

The Halflings stared at Mr. Belmont. A slow, unpleasant smile spread across the first one’s face, who finally agreed, "Fine. You’ll have your time."

Relief flickered across the Belmont family members’ faces but it died just as quickly. As the Halfling continued, "But in the meantime, we will be taking what’s owed to us in other ways."

Before anyone could protest, the two Halflings began moving through the room. The couch was lifted and carried out. The dining table followed, scraped across the floor and dragged through the doorway.

Mrs. Belmont let out a helpless sound. She uttered, "Wait—please, you can’t just—"

"Consider it collateral. Arrange the money quickly," the Halfling cut her off coldly.

Ruelle stood frozen beside her mother, watching her home be stripped piece by piece. At last the Halflings left the house as abruptly as they had come. The room suddenly felt larger, emptier and colder.

She stared at the bare spaces where the furniture had been only minutes ago.

She didn’t understand. She had believed the debt was already settled. That the money Sexton paid to her family had been enough to lift them out of trouble. Enough to make things better. Yet somehow they were here again... Why?

"Where is the money, Ruelle?" her father demanded in a low voice. "Tell me now, and I won’t be angry."

Ruelle stared at him in confusion, her heart thudding in her chest even though she had done no wrong. She answered quickly, "I don’t have any. I swear, Father, I didn’t make—"

His hand struck her face before she even understood what was happening. The sound of a slap echoed through the now empty room.

The force had sent Ruelle stumbling to the side and she fell on the ground. She felt heat explode across her cheek and her head snapped to the side. For a moment she couldn’t breathe but could only feel the sting blooming beneath her skin.

"F–Father..."

She saw the look on his face, which was furious. The same look she had learned to fear since childhood. Her stomach twisted. She wanted to believe he would listen, that he would understand, but a small frightened part of her already knew he wouldn’t.

"Why are you so useless?" Mr. Belmont snapped, his voice shaking with fury. "You can’t even help your own family for once. We sent you to Sexton to earn, and now you stand here and tell me you have nothing?"

Ruelle struggled to get on her feet, her cheek still burning and her ears ringing. Her eyes glistened and she whispered,

"They don’t pay humans, Father. We study—"

"Excuses!" her father cut her off harshly. "Always excuses."

Mrs. Belmont let out a weary sigh, folding her arms as she looked down at Ruelle with disappointment. She remarked,

"You should have thought before spending on yourself, Ruelle. New dresses, fine things and not a coin saved to help your family. After everything we have done for you."

Ruelle stared at her mother in disbelief, her heart breaking at those words. She replied quickly, "I didn’t—"

"How could you be so selfish?" Mrs. Belmont interrupted her.

"It seems spending time with the vampires has turned you into a rebel," her father said coldly. "Sharing a room with a man. How disgraceful! And you didn’t even think of the shame we felt hearing it from Ezekiel."

He walked to the stand and lifted his cane from its hook.

Ruelle felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands began to tremble and she shook her head.

"F–Father, no—please—"