The alteration device was progressing well, slowly but surely it was becoming a complete piece of equipment rather than a constantly failing experiment. That left time for Chloé to begin a side project, something she had been mulling over for quite some time. She needed to make preparations for her death.

She began with something simple, a machine she could use to quickly put an end to things. So simple was it that she was able to complete it in a single afternoon. It was nothing more than a swinging arm with a sharp blade on the end, effective and elegant. It would be able to pierce her heart or sever her head with ease, whichever she preferred.

Nearly as soon as she finished it Chloé knew that it wouldn't be satisfactory. Her death was an atonement, it couldn't be so fast and impersonal. There would be no point in that at all.

She understood her death needed to be more drawn out if it had any chance of letting her go in peace. The pain she caused to her family needed to be dealt back towards her, otherwise they would never get the justice they deserved. The original machine she built was, however, still useful to her. It only needed modification.

What she eventually created from it was a hideous amalgamation of blades and blunt objects, made to stab, slice, bludgeon and tear. It would function more than adequately for her intentions, yet it still felt incomplete. She disliked it greatly. It had taken a while to put together and Jean-Jacques had taken notice of the unusual amount of time she was spending in the workshop rather than the alteration device chamber. He hadn't seemed worried, only curious about what she was doing.

He became worried later when Chloé became sullen, mulling over the design of her machine continuously. Days passed, making her anxious about her inability to make any progress. She had felt remarkably soothed while creating the automaton, her burdens growing lighter with its inception, its presence a relief. Now the burden felt heavier than ever. How could she carry on when she was unsatisfied but had no idea why? She had to finish before using the alteration device, that wasn't negotiable, but she hated the idea of dragging things out longer than necessary. She was close, and she was impatient to put her plans into action. Everyone had already waited too long for their revenge.

Days continued to fly by, the alteration device continued to progress, and Jean-Jacques started pressing her about what was agitating her. She was vague with him, citing technological issues as the root cause. He was clearly still worried but he accepted her explanation regardless.

Chloé took to pacing the castle as she thought, hoping for inspiration to strike, and using it as a way to work out some of her nervous energy. On one of these walks she had wandered into the portrait hallway. She had made Jean-Jacques cover the paintings with a curtain long ago, disliking the eyes of her family looking at down at her whenever she passed through. Now, she pushed the curtain aside to see them, on a whim. The portraits had been done by various artists, some more skilled than others, and this was the only way Chloé could remember their faces; through the eyes of someone else.

She looked at the portraits, cracked and faded with age, some of them no longer recognisable, and it struck her why she disliked her creation. She created it for them, thus it needed to reflect that intention.

At the next opportunity, like a woman possessed she tore apart her machine, steadily reintegrating the weapons into new, more complicated apparatuses. Any spare moment was spent creating them with care, made with specific family members in mind, accounting for the graveness of her sins against each one. They came out as warped, vaguely human figures of varying shapes and sizes, the deadliness of their weapons chosen deliberately. The one who was owed the right to her life most of all was equipped with wicked circular saws that would tear her asunder. She smiled to think of it, itching for the agony.

Even given the shapes of her family the automatons were still not d'Apchiers, they could not quite stand in for real people. The automatons had no personality. How does one give something without a soul a personality? For a d'Apchier the answer was simple; you give it a sound.

The featureless heads she had granted them were removed, then replaced with something new, the instruments each member had favoured in life. It was difficult to attach instruments to machines made for slaughter, even more difficult to give them the ability to play. Chloé had to take them nearly entirely apart in order to put them back together with all the new, required parts. Making a weapon was simple enough, making a self-playing instrument was harder, combining them was a nightmare. None of the conflicting pieces could be interfering, a delicate balance between the violent portions and the fragile. Though she didn't break any of her components Chloé did manage to slice up her hands and arms as she fiddled with the automatons, not paying herself any mind in her concentration on the more important objective of perfecting her work. When Jean-Jacques saw her exiting her workshop he nearly threw a fit.

"What have you been doing, Chloé!? Look at you, we need to treat you right away!"

"The wounds are already healed, I'm a vampire just like you, you hopeless child. It's only blood, I'll clean it off. Unless you want it?" Chloé held out her arm to him, red dripping from her fingers.

She was surprised when, rather than accept the offer, Jean-Jacques picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. She didn't really mind as he made her sit down while he fussed over her inconsequential injuries, cleaning them diligently as he knelt in front of her. It was almost amusing, the way Jean-Jacques went out of his way to treat her with so much care.

"You should have just licked the blood off me," Chloé said somewhat petulantly as Jean-Jacques pushed her sleeve out of the way to check for wounds higher up on her arm.

"I don't want to drink your blood unless I'm the one who pierced you skin."

"That so?"

"There's no meaning in it otherwise."

"You can bite me now if you want to."

Jeanne stared at her for a moment. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I don't want to. Not right now."

"If you won't, I will." Chloé grabbed the hand still lingering on her arm.

"Chloé-"

She bit his hand. Perhaps harder than she had any reason to, his fingers jerking with the initial prick of her fangs. She watched him from the corner of her eye. Jean-Jacques was staring at her with an incomprehensible look on his face, as though he wasn't enjoying it at all. He looked sad. That wasn't right, he wasn't supposed to look like that when she drank his blood. Chloé pulled away, grip tightening on his hand, blood dripping down her chin.

"Why aren't you reacting properly?"

"I'm concerned, Chloé. I'd feel like I was taking advantage of the strange moods you've been in lately."

Chloé's features softened and she let his hand slip from her grasp. "I'm sorry. My intention wasn't to distress you."

"You don't need to apologise, Chloé." Jean-Jacques brushed some of her hair aside, cupping her cheek. "Please don't apologise."

Chloé leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. "The project I'm working on is nearly complete. It's going to make me so happy. Truly. It was only troubling when I wasn't making progress."

"All right." He leaned his forhead against hers, shutting his eyes as well.

***

"Jean-Jacques, make these for me." Chloé thrust a pile of papers into his hands.

"What? Uh... What are these for?" His brows furrowed as he rifled through the pages, simplistic sketches of clothing alongside paragraphs of scribbled notes.

"Me."

"That's not what I meant. You aren't the one who's going to be wearing these."

"You will find that out soon enough," Chloé said playfully, standing on her tiptoes to poke his cheek. "If you need help interpreting my specifications ask me for a better explanation."

"If you would tell me the purpose of these then that won't be necessary."

"Thank you for doing this, Jean-Jacques," she blew him off, well aware he would do as she said even if it frustrated him to be left in the dark.

Much later Jean-Jacques approached her with garments even more beautiful than she was expecting. He really was amazing, going above and beyond to create something spectacular for her even if it made him obviously uncomfortable. She took them away to the privacy of her workshop, taking the time to carefully fit each automaton. They all fit remarkably well when all Jean-Jacques had been given were the measurements she had made and vague allusions to the irregular shapes that would be hidden beneath the clothes.

Dressed in their finery the automatons looked noble, as a d'Apchier should. They were complete. But for one thing. Physically they were exactly as they should be, the perfect instruments for her destruction, in an immaterial sense there was still an element missing. They only needed to be christened. Finally the automatons had earned the distinction of her family's names.

With that they could no longer be hidden away, they deserved to be treated with the respect family were entitled to. She would need to introduce them to Jean-Jacques for a start, among many other things.

***

"These are..." Jean-Jacques flinched, glancing at her uneasily.

"The results of your hard work. Aren't they beautiful? They're self-playing instruments."

"Chloé, I- The music is pleasant." Jean-Jacques approached the closest automaton, "Why did you ask the clothes to be designed the way they were?"

"What do you mean by that?"

He unclasped the front of the dress, made specifically so the automaton's inner mechanisms could be quickly and easily revealed, better to perform its secondary function, and let out an sucked in a sharp breath. He'd already seemed to find the automatons slightly unnerving before he'd seen the blades, this would only make him feel worse. Chloé wished he hadn't chosen the most sinister one. He stood there for a while, staring at it. Chloé stepped forward, moving him aside so she could put the dress back in place, hiding the weaponry.

"I haven't properly introduced you to her or the others, Jean-Jacques." Chloé said gently. Then she named each automaton, ending with Herman, the head of the family.

"What did you build these for?" Jean-Jacques asked quietly.

"It gets lonely, doesn't it, Jean-Jacques? I thought they would brighten up the place with their presence and their music. And the time for revenge is coming, Jean-Jacques, I will need them."

"Did you really need to add weaponry to those self-playing instruments? I'll protect you, Chloé. You know that. And besides... why did you give them the names of the d'Apchiers?"

"Because these... are substitutes for those children." Chloé caressed the automaton beside her, smiling softly. "We'll have our revenge together. Mine for me. Theirs for them."

"This is what you've been doing? If that... if that will make you happy like you said... I suppose there's no problem." Jean-Jacques still looked apprehensive but Chloé was sure he would get used to them soon enough.

"Yes, it will make me very happy to have my family beside me."

Chloé shuddered almost imperceptibly as she drew away from her automaton, fingers brushing against the sharp ridges of the threat hidden by the beautiful dress. She could imagine it, blades sinking into her skin, blood flowing freely from a million different wounds, the life leaving her body in an arduous, drawn-out reqiuem. A fitting end.

She shouldn't be able to smile so blithely about her ultimate retribution, but she was rather looking forward to it.