Part 4
It wasn't right. It just wasn't. The girl belonged to *him*. She'd pledged her alliance and eternal service to him. *This* was how she repaid him?
He scowled at the victim, cowering in rags on the floor before him. He just wasn't interested any more. This was just not like him. He loved the taste of fresh innocent blood coursing through him, giving him life.
But at the moment he didn't feel like it.
"I trust that you are going to bring her back to me."
His eyes bored into the purple haired girl they called Phyre. She stood inside the chamber door, light from the near by candles and shadows mixing together in a macabre dance shimmering over her, making her seem almost like an actually demonic Phantom of the Opera.
"Yes, Master, we're on top of it. We know where she's going and will bring her back."
"Master, the spell is done." His witch in scarlet robes pushed past Phyre, alarm evident in her amber eyes.
"And?" He eyed her, staring intently. It was so handy to have a witch at your disposal. "Sir, she has become a Slayer."
Silence was almost echoing in the room. For a full five minutes, no one said a word. Even the victim had stopped whining.
"A...Slayer," he muttered. How? How could this have happened to her? Her, of all people? That stupid irritating legacy had chosen her? But she belonged to *him*.
"Find her. She's mine."
"But Master, if she's a Slayer - "
"Find her!" he snapped, eyes glowing red.
The witch and Phyre hurried out of the chamber. The victim started to scream again. He reached for her.
The screams soon stopped.
* * *
It wasn't right. It just wasn't. The girl belonged to *him*. She'd pledged her alliance and eternal service to him. *This* was how she repaid him?
He scowled at the victim, cowering in rags on the floor before him. He just wasn't interested any more. This was just not like him. He loved the taste of fresh innocent blood coursing through him, giving him life.
But at the moment he didn't feel like it.
"I trust that you are going to bring her back to me."
His eyes bored into the purple haired girl they called Phyre. She stood inside the chamber door, light from the near by candles and shadows mixing together in a macabre dance shimmering over her, making her seem almost like an actually demonic Phantom of the Opera.
"Yes, Master, we're on top of it. We know where she's going and will bring her back."
"Master, the spell is done." His witch in scarlet robes pushed past Phyre, alarm evident in her amber eyes.
"And?" He eyed her, staring intently. It was so handy to have a witch at your disposal. "Sir, she has become a Slayer."
Silence was almost echoing in the room. For a full five minutes, no one said a word. Even the victim had stopped whining.
"A...Slayer," he muttered. How? How could this have happened to her? Her, of all people? That stupid irritating legacy had chosen her? But she belonged to *him*.
"Find her. She's mine."
"But Master, if she's a Slayer - "
"Find her!" he snapped, eyes glowing red.
The witch and Phyre hurried out of the chamber. The victim started to scream again. He reached for her.
The screams soon stopped.
* * *