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Authors: Nicola Lawson

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Fulton tried to keep thoughts of Gabriella out of his mind and resisted the temptation to imagine that it was Gabriella's body bucking beneath him. Gabriella wouldn't have those sorts of problems with Francesca.

When they were through Persephone was content to let Fulton lay in silence instead of alternately pestering him with questions and complaints. Fulton was reluctant to speak in case what he said broke Persephone out of this uncharacteristically quiet mood.

"Francesca wants me to go somewhere with her tonight. You and Gabriella are supposed to stay here."

He didn't have a clue where Francesca was going to take him. She
had said something about checking out another house.  Fulton fully expected Persephone to complain either that she was being left behind or that Gabriella would be staying as well.

Persephone didn't voice either complaint, she didn't even roll over to face him. "All right."

Fulton thought about asking what had brought about this change of mood in her but decided just to accept it and reap the benefits. Hopefully he wouldn't be living like this for much longer so he should make the most of this calm time. When he and Gabriella told Francesca and Persephone about them things were bound to get crazy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-seven

 

Francesca had gone upstairs almost as soon as they were back in the house, Persephone had followed her a few minutes later leaving Fulton and Gabriella alone together again. Fulton just sat there watching her in silence. She wasn't doing anything remotely provocative, just lounging there watching television, but Fulton was captivated by her every movement however small or mundane.

He watched her shuffle her body on the settee turning more on her side to get
comfortable. Curling her knees up a little and resting her head on her right hand on top of the arm of the furniture. Brushing her straight dark hair from in front of her face, where it had fallen when she moved, to cast it back over her head. She fiddled with her hair to make sure it would stay behind her ear. When a single lock fell back in front of her face she gently blew it out of her line of sight but left it hanging there.

She rolled over onto her front and placed her chin on her hands which in turn were resting on a  cushion. She swept her hair out of the way in one motion and this time it all stayed where she put it. Her bare feet were up on the arm of the settee closest to him. Her delicate toenails were painted black but
with silver glittering highlights that shimmered when she moved her feet.

Fulton's eyes traced a line from her feet up to her shapely calves past her delicate ankles. They followed the shallow dip in the backs of her knees up her thighs and over the smooth swell of her buttocks. Sweeping down onto the naked small of her back that flowed up then in the graceful curve of her back to where her hair spilled onto her bare shoulders

Quietly Fulton moved in his chair so that his head was closer to her feet. He took a breath and slowly blew it out so that it just played over the soles of her feet. She curled her toes up in response. Fulton repeated the action blowing slightly harder and for a more extended period. Gabriella giggled and swung her
feet out of the way. This time Fulton reached out with his hand and trailed his finger gently along the inner arch of her left foot starting at her big toe and ending at her heel. Gabriella muffled her squeal into the cushion she held. She wriggled her body against the settee but kept her foot from moving with an effort.

When Fulton stopped trying to tickle her she looked back over her shoulder at him. Her normally pale face had a brush of pink over her cheeks.

"That doesn't work any more," she said. "I've trained myself to resist it."

Fulton smiled like a friendly predator. "Oh have you?"

He grabbed her foot at the ankle and brushed his fingers randomly over the sole of her foot.

Gabriella struggled to control her mirth and had to keep her lips pressed tightly together. Fulton eased up.

"No. No effect on me at all," she managed to squeeze out before he started again in earnest.

She was unable to contain herself this time under Fulton's relentless tickling and a squeal escaped her before Fulton stopped.

Both of them were suddenly wary and serious, waiting to see if her outburst had been heard. When, after thirty seconds, there was no sign that either of those upstairs had taken any notice of her outburst they were able to relax again. Gabriella rolled herself over onto her back and pushed herself up into a half sitting position. When their eyes met both Fulton and Gabriella burst out
laughing at the relief on each others faces.

Fulton left his seat to join Gabriella on the settee. She pushed herself fully erect to give him room, but she still sat sideways with her legs crossed in front of her like Fulton remembered having to do in primary school. Absentmindedly he brushed her hair away from her face. He let his hand trace down her face from her dainty ear onto her slender neck. He carried on over her shoulder and down her arm. He let it move from her hand to where it rested on her leg. He traced a  line over her plastic trousers and stopped at her knee which he squeezed tenderly and didn't release.

"We can't keep on like this," he said. "It's killing me inside. I know I said that I would give you time, and I'm not trying to
pressure you, but you need to decide soon."

"I know how you're feeling and it's no easier for me. All this time since I admitted to myself and to you how I feel about you I've been walking around in a dream. Nothing seems real but I know that it is. I know there will be consequences whatever decision I make. I know I will end up hurting you or Francesca if I choose the other. I
love
you but Francesca made me. We have over two centuries of history with each other. What I feel for her is just as strong in its own way, maybe its love as well. "You know what you feel; you are the only one that can."

Gabriella was close to tears. "But that's just it; I'm so confused I don't know what I feel any more."

"What I feel for her is just as strong in its own way, maybe its love as well."

"You know what you feel; you are the only one that can."

Gabriella was close to tears. "But that's just it; I'm so confused I don't know what I feel any more."

Fulton had been staring at his hand on her knee throughout her speech. Now he brought his gaze up to her. "You shouldn't be worried about hurting Francesca, and you shouldn't worry about hurting me. The decision you make has to the right one for you. You need to decide which choice is going to hurt
you
. Forget about the rest of us and any consequences, they can be dealt with later. But right now we are both getting all the worry and heartache without any
benefit and no hopes of it ending until we decide how to proceed."

Gabriella's eyes started to fill, her lower lip trembled. "I can't ignore the consequences. I think I know how I would choose without them. But they exist and it is a fallacy to pretend that they don't."

Fulton swallowed, he knew what was coming so he tried to make it easier for them both. "Then you must stay with Francesca and I with Persephone."

Gabriella didn't look at him and didn't speak.

"We dreamed this could work but we know in reality that it never could," he continued. "We'll just have to work at what we have with Francesca and Persephone."

Now Gabriella managed to respond. "How can I do that when I know what we could have had together?"

"Because I won't be around here to remind you. As soon as I can arrange it I'll take Persephone and leave. It's for the best."

Tears streamed down Gabriella's face taking her black makeup with them. Fulton reached out and brought her to him. Holding her close, protectively not intimately, he stroked her hair. He said no more, only soft soothing noises passed his lips until she had cried herself to sleep.

 

**********

 

Fulton hadn't noticed Persephone returning, he still hadn't had a chance to
tell her that they were going to set up on their own. It wasn't really what he wanted, but he
had
made his bed and now he had to lie in it. He had taken that misguided girl and turned her into a monster. He had to face up to his responsibility and not turn his back on her in his selfish hopes of finding something better.

His mind finally settled, or as settled as it had been for a good long time, he called to Persephone. He would tell her now.

Instead of Persephone it was Francesca who opened the door to his room.

"I was expecting Persephone," he said without making eye contact. He knew his feelings for Francesca weren't real but if he looked into her eyes she
would surely learn what he had hidden from her. She still had that power over him.

"I stopped her from coming." There was an uncommon solemnity in her tone. "You need to come with me."

Fulton didn't rise from the edge of his bed, but finally he raised his gaze to study her face. Did she know? Had Gabriella told her, or had she discovered them on her own? But no, there was no sign of their betrayal in her face. This was something else.

 

"I never encouraged your attempt to maintain the links between yourself and your family. I would have discouraged your attempt to make contact with them again had I known about it, for surely no good could come from clinging to the
past. But I know that you still felt those ties, the bonds with your family had not been severed. But I knew you would want to know about this. Maybe now you will be able to start out afresh."

Fulton just let Francesca talk. Cold tears were streaming down his cheeks as he watched them loading the bodies into the ambulances. But there was no hurry about the paramedics as they worked. They already knew they weren't dealing with people who might be saved, just meat for the coroners table.

They were hidden in one of the neighbouring gardens observing the buzz of activity surrounding Fulton's family's home. As well as the ambulance personnel, who finished loading the final small black-bagged body into the back of one of the vehicles, the police had
cordoned off the area and were questioning the neighbours who stood around in small groups crying or complaining at the state a world must be in to allow such an atrocity.

Francesca was as silent as Fulton now, giving him some space to come to terms with what he was seeing. She was right, especially with all the killing he himself had done he shouldn't be so affected by this. But he was. Who could do something like this?

He shifted his focus to where a police officer was taking a statement from a middle-aged man. Fulton gathered that he had been out walking his dog and had heard some screams, he guessed they were from Fulton's mother. The witness said he had seen somebody fleeing the premises and was currently engaged in
giving a description to a police sketch artist.

Fulton had to get a look at that sketch. He felt this hurt personally and wanted to see the face of the person who could inflict such pain on him.

Stealthily he left Francesca's side and approached the place he had still thought of as home right up until he saw them carrying out his family's corpses. It proved no difficulty to get close to his garden, he made sure to keep out of sight for any neighbours who might still remember and recognise him. His route took him up past the ambulances which housed the bodies. His eyes were filling up again and he placed his palm up onto the side of the closest vehicle. Whether he could be with them or not they didn't deserve this.

An officer shooed him away from the side of the ambulance and Fulton moved on. He came up a short distance behind as the officer was finishing questioning the witness.

"We should just leave," Francesca appeared at his shoulder.

"I have to know who did this," Fulton said flatly.

Francesca gave a furtive glance around. "We shouldn't be here. No good can come of this."

"I have to know."

A memory flashed in Fulton's head. Himself and Francesca feasting on his little twin sisters in his dream. He had to see the face of his families’ killer.

The sketch artist turned the pad around to show the image he had drawn to the witness. Fulton moved around so
that he could see, leaving Francesca behind.

He could see the portrait perfectly from where he was now. He had half expected to see an image of himself smiling back from the over-sized paper. In fact that would have been better than the truth of the matter.

The witness had nodded at the image, and the artist had handed it off to an officer, by the time Francesca came around to join him. She must have seen something in his face or rigid posture.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Fulton vanished from her side again without answering. The truth was worse than finding out that he had slaughtered his family. Because the truth revealed that it was the only woman he thought he was capable of loving who had killed his
family. Now he knew how fine the line could be between love and hate.

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