The Vampire's Apprentice

"I don't know what that has to do with anything!" the woman snorted like a bull. "I hardly think it matters right now."
The sun was fully down now. Just then, Sam chose to let out a loud bark, protesting his captivity.
Mrs. Pugglesworth's eyes narrowed. "Now... about that dog!" she stated.
 
Kitty did not waver an inch. "It sounds to me like you have not," she said, cutting off the conversation about the dog. "So I don't see how your commentary will help Mrs. Mooney, who is experiencing the subject firsthand. Neither have I seen a large dog running about your place, so until you find a canine companion of your own and gain a little experience in the subject, I would advise you hold your tongue."

A small spark appeared in her gaze, but that was all, as she remained smiling lightly. "Is there anything else you have qualms about, Mrs. Pugglesworth?" Kitty asked, her voice sweet and unchanged.
 
Mrs. Mooney stared at her in surprise, but Mrs. Pugglesworth seemed to literally swell, her face turning a deep red. "Why you stuck up little privilege millennial!" she spat, the harshest insult she could think of. "How dare you speak to me like that! I have more experience in my little finger than you have in your entire body! I should have known you would take the side of this degenerate trailer trash divorcee. Such a pathetic thing, hiding behind these ridiculous abuse claims. Everyone knows it's just because of your own weak will and your inability to handle life! And now You, young missy, are juggling two boys while she tries to get into the bed of one of yours!"

Mrs. Mooney went pale, gaping at Mrs. Pugglesworth and completely at a loss for what to say to her near incoherent rant.
 
And there it was. Kitty looked impressed and amused more than surprised. "I have done no such thing with any male child of hers, nor have I taken sides in the matter. Rather, I'm sharing a lesson I apparently learned earlier in life than your pinky finger: if you do not have anything helpful or nice to say, it is better not to speak at all. She will keep to her business and it is best if you keep to yours once in a while. Okay?"
 
"Ha! I'd like to see her keep her little ones to herself for once, and if ever you speak to me like that again, I shall call the police!" she shrieked. "You deserve a good spanking, you filthy chi- What the?" She jerked back in shock, gasping, "Where did you come from?"
"The house, I believe, and I was summoned out by the ruckus cawing of crows," Clancy said cooly from behind Kitty, making Mrs. Mooney jump.
 
Her eyes closed for a half second before she turned to look at him, a sudden spike of both dread and relief shooting down her spine, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms.

"It is after dusk, isn't it?" Kitty spoke quietly, trying to gauge his mood. "Nice to see you moving about tonight."
 
Clancy glanced at Kitty and gave her a tight smile, then his flinty eyes were on Mrs. Pugglesworth. "May I ask why it is you three are fighting on my lawn? No, I rephrase the question. Why are you, Mrs. Pugglesworth, belittling our neighbor and my assistant on my front lawn?" His tone was nothing but polite. Polite and glittering with frost.
Mrs. Pugglesworth gaped like a fish for a good few seconds before she regained her senses. "We are having a private discussion, sir!" she huffed, incensed.
"I see. So private that I could hear the banshee wails from within my walls," Clancy drawled.
 
Kitty took a step back, making sure she was not between Mrs. P. and Clancy, gaze flicking between the two, and she said nothing.
 
Mrs. Mooney blinked at Kitty's movement and hastened to follow her. Getting out of the way looked like a good idea.
"What did you say to me?" spluttered Mrs. Pugglesworth.
"A banshee," Clancy repeated promptly, "for that, my dear lady, is precisely what you are. A disembodied spirit wailing at the eves of other's private dwellings as a harbinger of doom and despair, but most of this dispair you bring on yourself with your constant natterings. I have tolerated your intrusive, busybody ways these years and have even pitied your empty existence that has brought you to the point of reveling in the misfortunes of others, but when you insult innocent women with your forked tongue and accuse my own assistant of inappropriate affairs with me and then lumping in the dear Mrs. Dorothy Mooney, slandering me in your own sideways manner, you have more than crossed a line. There will be no more accusations of philandering, no more insinuations of whoredom, and absolutely no presumptions to micromanage the parenting styles of another who is struggling just to keep their heads above water without you helping by holding their heads under water with the hangman's noose. Am I clear?"
Mrs. Pugglesworth's eyes started out of her head like she had seen a ghost, or, worse, her garden had been torn up.
"Good," Clancy snapped. "If I see you speaking to Miss Kitty again unless under strict orders of business, I will take steps." He spun around. "Mrs. Mooney!"
The woman jumped and stammered, "Yes, sir?"
"I understand you brought that delightful dish this evening?"
"Yes..."
"Good. Then you must come and enjoy it with us. Good day, Mrs. Pugglesworth. Come, Miss Kitty." With that, he strode toward the house.
 
It was her turn to finally be at a loss for words. In honesty, she felt bad for Mrs. P., which was the reason behind her brief, shuffling hesitation to follow. In the end, she turned away and scampered after Clancy. The girl slipped inside first to put Sam upstairs, hopefully where Mrs. Mooney's allergies would not be bothered by him.
 
The dog whined at first first then grunted in sullen resignation when he realized he was to be left upstairs. Why oh why?? He just wanted to protect his person!

Clancy, meanwhile, had taken Mrs. Mooney to sit on the couch, and he sat next to her, holding her hand and patting it gently as she tried to wipe her eyes with the other hand. "I just... I try so hard! Then old bats like that come along and remind me, I'll never be able to try hard enough," she hiccupted, tears dripping down her cheeks.
"There there, my dear, forget about her," Clancy soothed. He looked tired, but he was valiently working to calm the woman.
 
"It's just for a little bit," She told Sam. "Good boy."

Kitty didn't think too hard about what was occurring on the couch and instead busied herself with retrieving a bowl of Shepard's Pie for the Mrs.. She refrained from forming a bowl for herself in mild effort to make it less obvious Clancy was not eating, though she left the excuses up to him, if it was necessary.
 
Mrs. Mooney accepted the bowl with a watery smile and tried to pull herself together. "I'm sorry. I don't normally fall apart like this," she said, looking for a tissue. "It was... she took me off guard."
"Nonsense," Clancy said, producing a handkerchief and handing it to her. "That woman could make anyone cry." He looked up at Kitty and smiled. "I am proud of how you stood up to her."
 
Her eyebrows raised in surprise, but her expression was tinged with regret. She didn't smile in return, instead taking a seat in one of the living room chairs. Kitty wasn't quite sure what to do in the moment besides avoid staring, so she focused on that.
 
"Miss Kitty, perhaps you could fetch her a cup of tea?" Clancy asked as Mrs. Mooney already finished her bowl.
"I really don't want to be a bother," Mrs. Mooney said, moving to stand.
"Nonsense!" Clancy assured her, resting a hand over hers. "Stay a while. Talk."
She hesitated then sank down into her seat once more, eyes on the Vampire.
 
Tea. Kitty stood and wandered back into the kitchen. "Was there any particular type of tea you'd prefer?" She asked.
 
"Um, no, whatever is fine," she called back. "Again, I am so sorry-"
Clancy held up a hand to stop her. "Mrs. Mooney... May I call you Dorothy?"
"Yes, please do."
"Dorothy, it is no trouble at all. You look as though you could use a listening ear and a friendly hand."
 
Kitty shrugged slightly and picked one out at random—a herbal tea, which was good for late nights as it lacked caffeine. In a few minutes' time, when it was ready, she brought it over to the Mrs., asking if she would like some milk or sugar.
 
She shook her head and thanked Kitty for the tea. Then, after just a couple of gentle, prodding questions from Clancy, she spilled everything. She had been a pretty decent girl growing up. She was no angel, but neither was she a wild child. Yet just a few days before prom (the cursed day for so many poor girls), she became pregnant with her high school sweetheart who had been stringing her along and tormenting her for months. Terrified she was going to loose him, she gave him what he asked despite her reservations. Thus came Norville. Her father found out, and they had, more or less, a shotgun wedding.
As it turned out, that was the biggest mistake her father had ever made.
Her "sweetheart" turned out to be an abusive cheater. Still, she stuck with him and tried to make it work because he'd never actually hit any of the children, and only thrice raised his hand to her. Then when the twins were little, she discovered she'd been wrong. Almost dead wrong. She walked in on him hurting EJ while Norville was locked in a closet, and that was that. The next time he went out to "work late," she took the children, divorced him, and ran. He'd done his work well to cut them off from all other support systems and create total dependance on him, but she was a feisty woman with Irish blood, and she wasn't going down that easy when she had children to protect. He found them twice, but she was able to call the police in time. She hadn't seen him in five years now, but still she lived her life looking over her shoulder.
Then along came people like Mrs. Pugglesworth who scoffed and said her claims of abuse were made up or she was far too delicate a soul. It hurt her deep.

Clancy calmly listened, nodding along, letting her talk, and eventually cry. She ended up in his arms, weeping on his shoulder... and that was exactly where he wanted her.
 
Despite often appearing oblivious to the going-ons of the world and frequently missing some overarching topic in a conversation, Kitty was anything but dumb. In fact, she was quite a bright child; it should have come as little surprise that she made a fairly good guess as to where Clancy's motives lay. What the girl was really curious to know was how he planned to accomplish such a feat, or if, per chance, she was incorrect in her assumption. Another part of her—the minority—only hoped there wouldn't be any corpses afterward, if she were, indeed, on par.

For the most part, Kitty hung around the dinning-room table as opposed to remaining directly in the living room. She was still observing, silently thinking through things and only half-listening to the Mrs.' words. Meticulously is a good way to describe how she watched the pair's movements, Clancy's especially.
 
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