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They left Lucille in Mason's tender care, and Mason left most of her night's work in Constance's capable hands. She stayed by Lucille's side leaving only to help Constance with a few unfamiliar tasks and situations. Softly talking to Lucille, hoping that she could hear her voice wherever she was lost, Mason put her best effort forth to understand what had happened, something that no one seemed to comprehend yet.
Occasionally out of Lucille's faint moans and cries, Mason thought she caught a word here and there, but she could not figure out what Lucille might mean. On the second night, the Prince called. Constance brought the phone to Mason with raised eyebrows but no comment. Hanson inquired after Mason's wellbeing, and that of Constance and Nicholas too; Mason reported that they were all well, and appreciated his concern.
"And Miss Semingsworth? Have you noted any change in her mien?"
"No," Mason told him sadly, "She's still... like that... so unhappy.... and so lost." She hesitated, about to beg him to do something, realizing that he would do anything he could, and she did not wish to imply that was not so by asking...
"I will come by tomorrow night at 1 am to do what I can for her. Have her prepared as best you can, in a secure room with a locking door."
Mason felt an enormous sense of relief... he was coming to save her, again, is how she felt, though that was not at a completely conscious level. "Oh... thank you so much! I will, we'll be all ready."
After brief, efficient goodbyes, Hanson hung up. He sat for a brief moment gazing at the phone. The ghoul's fears were palpable, yet none were for herself, though certainly Lucille's condition made her situation horribly precarious. All Mason's fears were for her catatonic employer - that she would never wake from what were evidently horrible nightmares. He almost felt warmed by this display of loyalty, despite the sorrow of the situation that had evoked it, and the weight of the current state of the city.
Mason made the preparations the Prince had asked for, moving Lucille into the guest bedroom onto the bed there, carrying her as gently as if she were a sleeping child, and laying her on the bed. She left a handkerchief next to the pillow, to wipe the blood tears from Lucille's eyes should she begin to cry again. She went out, leaving Lucille for a short time, and spoke with Constance, explaining to her that the Prince would be coming, probably with the Club Manager, possibly with others or alone. Constance seemed happy being busy. The public relations work was social yet disconnected from her interior self, making it easy and pleasant work for her.
The Prince arrived, accompanied by two men, one of them the driver who had brought Mason home Wednesday night. As this was Saturday night, the Club Manager was busy, which Mason would have realized had she not been so distraught. Mason showed them into the spare bedroom, holding back sudden tears as she gestured them to Lucille's prone figure lying on the bed. Hanson's gaze almost softened as he asked Mason to leave the room, which she promptly did.
The two men were there to hold Lucille down should she struggle, Mason speculated. The room was soundproof enough that she heard nothing. She tried not to fret, she worked with Constance keeping Lucille's affairs in order in her absence from the reins, and she waited. An hour later, the Prince came out, and took Mason aside to speak for a moment.
"I still know nothing. She is a remarkably strong-willed woman, and resists control even undertaken in an effort to help."
Mason nodded, knowing first hand just how strong-willed Lucille was. "Is there anything I can do ... to try to prepare her? Maybe?"
Hanson shook his head. "Probably not, these things are innate. However, if you care to make the attempt, remind her repeatedly of who I am and why she should let me in. It cannot hinder my efforts, and might be of some use." He did not wish Mason to feel totally useless. Other matters called urgently, and he made his way out with his two men.
Mason gazed after him, wondering about him. Who was he really? She had seen such small glimpses yet still had no idea. Thoughtful, she reset the security behind them and returned to Lucille's side. She whispered words of affection and hope into her ear, until she fell asleep beside her, arms around her employer's still form, both of them weeping, one in red, one in white.
Mason woke in dimness, several hours later. She stretched, leaving the room on tiptoe, though she knew it was daytime and Lucille would not waken. Out of Lucille's silent apartment, into her own, she crept, and as she stepped into her own place she smiled as she heard Nick and Constance's voices in quiet conversation.
The next night, Hanson Blake returned, this time with Vlad accompanying as well as two of their retainers. They spent over two hours with Lucille, and came out of the room smiling faintly, the expression on Hanson's face echoed on Vlad's. They sat down in Lucille's livingroom amid the titanium weaponry and told Mason what they had learned.
"We were finally able to get her to speak, and she told us a bit. She is in a delusory world in her mind, believing herself eternally cursed and tormented, and that this world is a figment of her imagination," the Club Manager told Mason.
"We must firmly establish the memory of the true events in her mind," the Prince said. "For that, we will need your account of that night." He gazed steadily at Mason, who looked aside for a moment, then back into his eyes.
"Whatever will help Miss Semingworth," she said. Mason proceeded to tell them both of every detail her mind could conjure regarding the kidnapping and subsequent events, including the brave rescue by her two listeners. If they had been human, they would have blushed at the glowing terms Mason used to describe them both. She was not trying to flatter them, the feelings she expressed were sincere; however, the equally sincere terror she felt at their inhuman powers and prowess she kept strictly to herself.
The Prince and Club Manager returned almost every night to continue their efforts to repair Lucille's trauma, and Maeve began to pay visits each night, sitting beside her mentor and reading to her, giving Mason a welcome break in which she could relax and even sleep a bit. Slowly they were making progress, but, the end was not here yet. Lucille's incredible power of will made her very hard to convince of the truth, as it would have made her equally hard to convince of false memories. But the weight of reality and of the combined power of dominance of the two elders was slowly bringing her around. Every night now there were small breakthroughs that brought hope to Mason's heart. As she fed Lucille from the glassine bags of blood they brought her, Mason could see a smile, or even, once, catch Lucille whispering her name, a tone of hope in her voice, and that hope fed Mason's hope, swelling in her heart bringing her a breath of peace, a tiny island perhaps, but a resting place in the ocean of sorrow she had been swimming for what seemed so long a time.