~1584~

Months turned to a year as Chantarell continued secretly seeing Claire and ever so slowly tutoring her in her own belief system. All the while she still somehow managed to keep the other girl from having the opportunity to even lay her pretty green eyes upon any other member of her household, including Sean.

It wasn't that difficult a thing, as Sean had his duties during the day, as did Ana. Haven was obviously out of commission during those daytime hours. And Claire herself knew she'd be immediately rushed to the nearest convent if her parents ever even had a clue that she had tried to go and visit the Torrence home. Chantarell visting Claire was less of a risk overall. If she must, Claire could always claim that the girl was simply passing by on her way to town. No such excuse would have ever worked to explain her own presence at Chantarell's home though. But that suited the Torrence household just fine. Having one unwary mortal on the grounds as the sun was high in the sky was quite enough for them.

As for Sean adjusting to life there over the next year, he mostly just regarded the three of them from a distance. He didn't say much at all when Chantarell wandered out onto the grounds, which she rarely did anyway. He had somehow convinced himself to just give into his theory of all three of them being just a bit on the 'mad' side. But he accepted it, as their 'madness' never truly seemed to cause harm to anyone or anything, except possibly his own psyche. And that was a only a result of him just trying to decipher it all, during his less busy moments, anyway.

Sean then found his curiosity gnawing at him again as he realized that Hallows Eve, or Samhain, as the strange redhead called it, had come around once more. Upon that thought, the sight that he had beheld the year before once again began running through his brain on a minute-by-minute basis. And it was still just as disturbing as it had been when he had seen it with his own eyes.

He could barely concentrate on his duties that day as all he found himself doing was wondering if the fire-lit orgy was to take place again that night. He shook his head as his body reacted to the thought. He wished it hadn't, but he obviously had no control over that very basic function of his body, considering his own reasonably inexperienced life.

Sure, there had been a few girls at the orphanage who were near to his age. And he had exchanged a kiss with a few of them here or there, or possibly an 'improper' touching of one of their thighs when the nuns were distracted. But every girl seemed to completely lose his interest before he even got so far as behind one of their bodices. They seemed just completely and totally, abysmally, dull, and all the same as the next. This fact caused Sean to find himself endlessly bored by each and every one of them, despite what surface beauty any of them displayed.

He sighed and took a breath, shaking his head at the memories of his uneventful youth. The other boys there had told tales of getting a bit farther with the girls than he ever had. Still, even that did not convince him that he could see himself finding interest in any one of them for more than five minutes. And then there was the thought of going to see one of the women who were paid to give their attentions to young inexperienced men. Somehow that didn't even appeal to him. Sean found he had set himself the standard of wanting a girl to not only be interesting to him, but to also have an honest interest in him as well. He didn't want a girl who just had a curiosity to know what it was like, like the young girls at the orphanage. Nor was he interested in a woman with nothing more than a thirst for cash, like the women at the brothel.

Another shake of his head as he realized that there had never been one girl he had met in two long decades, who did hold his interest for very long. He wondered if there ever would be in a town full of carbon copied young women. Then he looked back at the house and swallowed as Chantarell moved past the window, forcing him to correct his previous thought.

It was true that he had convinced himself that she was just a little 'touched.' But that fact itself did mean that she had never bored him in their brief encounters. He was almost visibly arguing with himself as he watched her move out of sight once more.

The girl was not quite right. But she wasn't unattractive. And he knew that that fact extended to every detail of her physicality, after what he had witnessed the previous year. But he also knew that there was obviously some kind of relationship between herself and Haven, and a very intimate one at that. Though, he also knew that Ana shared that same kind of relationship with the same man, which therefore lent doubt to the validity of such a relationship, for either woman.

Sean sighed again, trying to ignore the fact that no other girl who he had ever spoken to, had ever occupied his thoughts as much as the little redhead now did. He couldn't help letting himself wonder if there was truly a reason for that, and one that should at least be explored, though very, very carefully.

As though fate wanted to force him into a decision, Chantarell then stepped out of the house once more. And he felt that he had to make a decision then and there, about how and indeed if he should hint at the thoughts about her which were now plaguing him.

"That works better if you actually move the shovel while you're doing it" she told him wryly, as she gestured to the way he had been standing frozen in a still dirty stall.

"Very funny" he replied under his breath as he half turned away, trying to buy himself a bit more time for that decision.

"You're just not a morning person, are you?" she asked as she carelessly leaned against the stable door.

"Gonna say the spirits kept me awake again?" he dared. He then took a brief glance back toward her. "Thought that wasn't supposed to be 'til tonight."

"Wow, we got at least two fast learners in this town." The words were cryptic, though her lips wore a smile.

"What?" he asked as he looked at her once more, then added, "nevermind. I doubt I wanna know."

"Of course you do" she teased playfully.

"If you say so" he mumbled back to her.

"Call it intuition" she replied before turning on her heel and heading back in the direction of the path through the woods once more.

"What on earth do you do out there in the woods by yourself so often?" he couldn't stop himself from calling after her.

"Told you you wanted to know" she chided, beaming back at him.

"Forget I said anything" he mumbled with a shake of his head as he looked back in the direction of the waiting stall.

"Come on" she laughed as she moved back to grasp his wrist and began pulling him from the barn with her.

"I do have a job, you know" he argued weakly. He couldn't manage much volume while trying not to pay an undue amount of attention to the feel of her tiny hand encircling his wrist as he let her lead him away.

"It's a holiday. You can take a few hours off" she assured as she continued to lead him with her towards the woods, just the way she had done with Claire, slightly over a year earlier, and several times since.

"A holiday, hmm?" he mumbled, though once again, found himself unable to stop his next sentence, "I can just imagine how you'll be celebrating."

"Really, whatcha imagining?" she grinned, causing him to wonder if she did have some knowledge of his spying on them the previous year. Sean just shook his head, refusing to give her any answer.

Once they reached that clearing, Sean was obviously flooded with even more memories of the previous year's celebration. He awkwardly took a seat on a large boulder that sat in the corner of the clearing, several feet off from the place where he had watched their lovemaking the year before. He attempted to sit in a position that would hide any arousal from her eyes as she flitted about the clearing, chasing after butterflies. For once, Chantarell seemed younger than her actual age, when the opposite was true most often. Though after the previous year, it was nigh impossible for him to see her as some innocent young girl any longer.

"So, why has your chattering suddenly stopped?" he asked. His nervousness forced him to fill the silence between them as she continued her carefree chasing and releasing of the last remaining butterflies that populated the woods before the temperature cooled and they disappeared for another year.

"I was still waiting on your answer" she stated simply.

"What answer?" he asked, attempting to feign innocence of what she meant.

"About how you were imagining we'd be celebrating" she easily offered, not letting him off the hook that easily.

"How would I know?" he stated with an uneasy shrug.

"Well, you did watch us last year, didn't you?" she stated point-blank. In that moment, Sean was sure that his heart stopped at the sound of her words.

He forced every bit of wit he had, to come up with an answer to that accusation, "I heard noise late at night. I was worried. I followed the noise then you were all out here, and I didn't think I should disturb... whatever was going on." He stammered the explanation as a blush rose to his pale cheeks.

Chantarell just shook her head with a surprising smile. "And you stuck around for another year? I'm impressed. Apparently the church isn't that good at brainwashing everyone, after all."

"Like I said, I have nowhere else to go" he repeated, still amazed that he wasn't facing her fury at him admitting that he had spied on such an activity, after all.

"Well, if it truly shook you that terribly, you would have found somewhere else to go. Anywhere else to go" she told him, speaking surprisingly softly as she turned back towards him with an oddly gentle smile. "There's hope for you yet" she added with yet another coy grin curling her lips.

Sean swallowed hard at her having seemed to accept what he thought was sure to lose him his invitation to stay with them. He then realized that this young girl was truly full of more surprises than he could even imagine. And that drew him to her even more strongly.

"Do you really want this life though?" he asked softly.

"Did I appear to not be enjoying myself that night?" she replied with a trace of mischief.

"But everything else aside," he began with a deep breath as he slowly rose from his seat, "do you really want a lover you have to share? Don't you want someone who's yours, and only yours?" he asked more quietly.

"I do love him, and I know he loves me. It's not like there's anyone else I've ever wanted" she admitted, her tone matching the softness of his.

"No one else?" Sean repeated. "I know you could find a man who wouldn't make you share him. One who would just be yours, and yours alone" he dared.

"Please, it's not like there's many men out there who would fit that description, Sean. Even if there was a faithful one among them, they all think I'm some kind of devil-woman and won't come near me" she scoffed.

Sean then stepped closer to her and leaned down as he spoke, causing her to simply freeze. "I'm near you. And there's no one else I've ever really had any interest in for more than one conversation, ever in my entire life. There's just you; devil-woman or not."

It was then that he bravely attempted to lean in for a kiss. Chantarell immediately pushed him forcefully away, containing more strength in her tiny frame than he could have ever imagined.

"God, Chantarell, I was only going to kiss you, not... attack you, or anything" he assured her, wounded by her reaction, as he reached for the shoulder that she nearly bruised with the force of her push.

"You can't do that, Sean" she told him. She seemed truly shaken by the attempt at what he saw as only a simple kiss, and a much more innocent show of affection than what he had seen her indulge in, in the very place where they now stood once more.

"I don't understand how upset I've made you. I watched you nearly have an orgy of some kind in this very spot. But you're terrified of a kiss?" he asked, his own shock at her behavior, sharpening his tone.

"That's not the problem, Sean" she told him in a near whisper as she turned away. She nervously bit her nail. She realized then that her refusal to tell him who he actually was, at least to her, had now come back to haunt her so very thoroughly.

"Then what is?" he had to ask, almost afraid of hearing whatever answer she may give him.

"Sean, I was born here. I've lived in this home all my life. My father was a servant too." She then tried to force herself on, not able to look back at him, knowing it would make it that much harder to the finish the sentence. "My father was... was your father" she choked out the last bit, turning just in time to see all of the color drain from his face as he quickly turned, fleeing from the clearing in shock.