It was unfortunate, that I couldn't enjoy the remainder of the walk in silence for long, for as soon as I made my way back through the maze of corridors and into familiar territory: I was ambushed by several maids and shoved around again until I was basically thrown into another steaming bath. 'Well…this is familiar.' I mentally huffed, not amused by their brazen treatment: but in all honesty, I couldn't say much of anything in protest that wouldn't be ignored, or lead the women themselves to a demise worse than death. "Is this because I'm leaving tomorrow?" I asked, knowing the answer to that already: but decided to make idle conversation instead of being forced to stare at bloody water and brown suds, struggling not to sneeze from the multiple scents tickling my nose, constantly reminded of things that couldn't be changed: no matter how badly I wished for it.
"Of course, Duchess! We have been strictly instructed to make you look your absolute best in preparation for your departure with 'Lady Beneviento' tomorrow. Our Mistress will settle for nothing less." Irina stated, not at all bothered by the aftermath of earlier as she scrubbed a multitude of shampoos, conditioners and oils into my hair, nor was she bothered by my gloved hand immediately getting slapped over my eyes as soon as the hood was pulled back and out of my face. "I don't know why you insist on hiding your face, Duchess: you look stunning! Why, you would have no trouble sending the men of the Village into a right fit! There were many handsome ones in search of a betrothed before I came to work here: surely one of them would catch your fancy?" a young girl, no older than thirteen chirped, only to cry out as the sound of a well-placed 'swat' echoed in the small bathroom immediately.
"Have you not learned by now to keep your opinions to yourself, you foolish girl?! It is NOT your place to question the choices of the 'Great Ones'! You have no idea how lucky you are that the Mistress did not hear you! Beautiful as she is, the Duchess must have her reasons and you will respect them to the fullest extent of your Duty. You wouldn't question the Mistress' or Mother Miranda's choices, would you?" Irina harshly scolded, not caring about the girl as she held back her 'sniffling' in an obvious attempt not to cry: whether from the force of the older woman's hit, or the thought of possibly offending me, I didn't know. However, what I did know, was the fact that they had called me a 'Great One' and had seen most of my face: and while the flattery was a nice change of pace from the sorts of comments that were usually directed at me, the girl's suggestion wasn't in the cards for me. 'And I wonder whose fault that is?' the snide, acidic voice of The Shade hissed, announcing her unwanted presence like an itch I couldn't scratch…or take a fist to.
'Go. Away.' I mentally spat back, covering up a shake of my head with a roll of my neck and shoulders: the hot water and massaging hands working wonders on my bad shoulder, chasing away the deep, throbbing ache for the first time in months: even the shredded wing was pleasantly tenderized. "Forgive me, Duchess: I forgot my place, it won't happen again." the girl muttered, properly humbled by Irina and hesitantly rejoined the other two pairs of hands and helped making me spotless and clean again. "Don't worry about it, really: if anything, your curiosity is justified. Unfortunately, I have a…'Duty' of my own that prevents such things: and if its all the same to you, I don't want to discuss it anymore." I said, struggling to come up with an excuse on the spot that they would understand: and as weak as my answer was, it seemed to get the point across well enough. "Of course, Duchess: your request will be honored and treated with the upmost respect." I heard Gloria reply, speaking for the girl as they pulled the cork plug from the bottom of the filthy, porcelain tub and assisted me in climbing out: burying me in fluffy towels and quickly got to work in combing, brushing and styling my thick, dark-burgundy mane of hair again.
'Where the hell were you when my hair reached my tailbone?' I wondered, trying not to lean back into Ingrid's hands as her fingernails scratched every possible itch my scalp had as she worked sweet-smelling oils into my hair and worked the knots and snarls free. Clenching my jaws to prevent the embarrassing, deep, rumbling 'purr' that tried to force its way out of my vocal cords: I was once-again reminded of how annoying it was to be able to make every possible animalistic sound a human couldn't…as if it wasn't already a nightmare for me to blend in. "There you are, properly washed and presentable! Now, the Mistress has instructed us to escort you to the Dining Hall for lunch: right this way, Duchess." Irina announced, gently lifting my hood back over my face and collected the towels: allowing me to move my hand away and see the same iridescence within the black and red of my body suit, the treatment leaving the leather-like material feeling as soft as suede.
With a grateful 'nod', I let the women lead me back to the Dining Hall: seeing no point in trying to argue or insist I was able to walk over there perfectly fine by myself. Through the pleasant 'crackling' of the fireplace as we made our way through the Great Hall: my sensitive ears picked up multiple voices chattering excitedly over each other, as if the owners of the voices were fighting each other to tell the entirety of a story first: guess the daughters really couldn't wait to tell Alcina all about the trip to the Cellar. "You should have seen her, Mother! She was positively frightening! I've never even seen 'Uncle Heisenberg' get that angry!" I heard Bela cry with a tone that was equal parts frightened and excited: like the aftermath of getting on a roller coaster for the first time. "Her finesse was exquisite! Not a step out of place! It was almost like she was dancing: I swore I could feel the force of each blow myself! She fought with the anger of the most brutal 'Warriors of Old': it's no wonder the 'Vârcolac' stood no chance! She massacred them like cattle, it was simply Divine!" Cassandra chattered next: babbling and tripping over her words like her mouth couldn't get them out fast enough, sounding positively insane with exuberance: just oozing psychopathic mania.
"It was almost concerning, how fast she just…changed. One moment she was dancing around them: slaughtering the Moroaică with no effort, as if they were mere pests. But when that one broke the axe on her head, it was almost as if…she didn't even feel the pain…but when she straightened herself, it was as if she suddenly decided she wanted it to suffer, that she didn't want to just kill it: I would almost say that she reminded me of Aunt Donna and 'Cousin Angie's' cruelty, but the way she beat it…it was as if she were there, yet not. I'm unsure how to describe it, Mother: but it was almost as if a switch had been flipped, the sheer brutality…was nothing short of unsympathetic and purposeful, monstrous even." Daniela explained next, proving my earlier theory that she was, in fact, taking notes: only dissecting every single movement of the very technique down to its bare fibers…not unlike something a 'Scientist' would do. Withholding a 'snarl' at the realization, I paused in my step and strained my ears to hear Alcina's reply as she undoubtedly absorbed the new information like a dry sponge to water.
"And her appearance? Has she shown any abilities that Mother Miranda would deem useful?" the giant, Infected woman interrogated: suddenly giving me all the answers I could possibly need, not that I should honestly be surprised that Miranda ordered Alcina to try and squeeze the abilities out of me through her daughters and their 'toys'. And while that didn't disturb me as much as it probably should've, the fact that Miranda just initiated a game of 'Subtle Chess' stirred an odd sense of excitement in me that I haven't felt in years. 'Very well, if that's the kind of game you want to play: then consider the challenge accepted. Your move, bitch.' I thought, feeling my shoulders rise as I subconsciously puffed up: wanting nothing more than to pluck every feather from every wing and use them as acupuncture needles, but then I would be getting ahead of myself again.
"No, Mother: she did all of this with her bare hands! It was as if she didn't see a point in using them: maybe she doesn't have any?" Bela suggested, making a quiet 'snort' blow its way out of my nostrils: oh, if only they knew that that was definitely not the case. "Hmm…perhaps. You did well, Daughters: I will inform Mother Miranda of your acumen after lunch, thank you. Now then, let's withhold the remainder of this conversation for later: she's arrived to join us." Alcina said, tone remaining the same: yet hinted at nothing short of a command. As Irina and Gloria opened the heavy mahogany doors, all three maids respectfully kept their eyes to their slippers as they crouched in the same, uncomfortable curtsy as before: none daring to raise their heads or physically recoil as Alcina glared down her nose at them, while the daughters beamed sinisterly in anticipation for a tasty snack.
"Now now, Daughters: remember that we don't bite, our Staff are usufruct, not entrees." Alcina lightly scolded, waving the women away with a casual 'flick' of her fingers: prompting another curtsy from the maids as they quietly shut the doors and made themselves scarce. "So glad you could finally join us, Auntie! We've been waiting for you." Cassandra chirped, sending a sly glance towards her sisters as they quietly giggled amongst themselves. 'Yes, I bet you have.' I thought sarcastically, rolling my eyes hard enough to cause a minor headache as Alcina regarded me with a devious curiosity: as if she were determined to crack me open and expose all my dirty little secrets. "So good of you to join us for lunch, Sister: the girls were just telling me the most curious story, a story of how anomalistic they found you whilst entertaining yourself with some of our 'Guards'. Tell me, are there any idiosyncratic traits about yourself that you've kept secret from us? Mother Miranda despises secrets, and you wouldn't want to anger our Mother by keeping such from her, would you?" she questioned, voice level and proper as always, yet as hard as steel: trying to pry the answers from me with the subtle threat of a scolding that would send her insectoid daughters running. 'Do you honestly think I'm afraid of you?' I wondered, raising an eyebrow as I wandered over to the table and took my seat: busying myself with laying the silk napkin in my lap and filling my plate with a bowl of hearty beef stew with vegetables and a roll of pipping hot bread for dipping.
"No offense, Alcina: but if those were 'Guards', I would strongly suggest looking into something with a better battle prowess: an infant could play 'Hopscotch' around the mediocre skill of those extremely-flammable Husks. Even in numbers, their skill is pathetic and laughable." I bit back, dodging the question and busying myself with the delicious contents of my lunch instead of watching the expressions shift around the table. "Are you insulting my uses for the Failures, Sister?" Alcina hissed, blood-red painted lips tugging downwards in a frown and if I looked at her features closely enough: I could've sworn her blue eyes adopted a reddish tinge from beneath her wide-brimmed hat. 'Well well…looks like you've got a 'Tell' too: shame I have no interest in seeing what'll happen if I keep poking that apparently-delicate nerve with a sharp, pointy stick.' I thought, putting my half-eaten roll of bread back on the fine, China plate and took a sip of the sweet juice the maids were gracious enough to provide.
"No. It's an actual suggestion: against a human that can't tell their head from their ass, they're fine. But if you miraculously get an intruder in here that actually knows how to deal with them, it would be no contest. They're loud, extremely slow, their swings are too wide, and they shuffle like their legs are tied together. If I were your Enemy, each of you would've been picked off before you even knew what was happening: but I'm not your Enemy and am actually trying to give a helpful suggestion. Because people like that do exist, and the unlikely moment you find such an intruder in here: at least you'll be able to slow them down enough to properly defend yourselves." I said, not breaking hidden eye contact with her: not even as her features relaxed as she finally caught on to the fact that the words were not in fact an insult towards her, despite the bluntness behind them.
"How odd, to have a mindset that conjures such cynosure scenarios: Dear Sister, surely by now you realize that such vermin wouldn't dare intrude on my property? In the event that fresh prey does grace our abode: there will be more than enough for everyone to enjoy their equal share of the slaughtered corpse. While your excogitate concern of the possibilities of an intruder proving too much for my Daughters or myself to handle is gracious of you, it is unwarranted: House Dimitrescu always has and always will be auspicious in Mother Miranda's eyes. And as long as she favors our Noble House, no Mortal would be able to breach my Castle's walls and attempt to harm us: however, I can also acknowledge that an Outsider such as yourself would have different views. No matter. Mother Miranda has welcomed you into the fold, despite your Origin: it's only natural it would take time for you to see just how privileged you are. While she may not favor you as much as others, her protection still extends to you, so long as you dedicate your absolute devotion to her: and because of this, its in your best interest to dispel such paranoia. We command these Mortals, they fear and worship us, we cannot be harmed by their pitiful weapons: and we certainly do not fear them." she stated, blatantly brushing off the notion that her pathetic excuse for protection would be enough to take care of every intruder that may find themselves within the stone and brick walls of the Castle. And while the extremely-limited combat abilities of said Husks would work on the people of the Village: she had no idea how advanced things were beyond those mountains.
"I'll take your word for it." I said, going back to my food and ending the conversation there: paying no mind to the confused and curious looks the girls were sending me. Even now, I didn't hate them for following the orders of a higher Infected: but that neutral opinion didn't mean I wanted them dead, not yet, at least. 'Their ignorance is honestly sad.' I noted, knowing that if the Castle were to be breached, it wouldn't take much for the invaders to put an end to Alcina and her Daughters: especially if they brought any of 'The Big Guns' with them. That being said, there was only so much I could do to make them reconsider their choices of protection: and if they opted to ignore my attempts in hopes that Miranda would step in and protect them instead…well, that would be their lesson to learn. 'Shame that Miranda couldn't give a shit less about any of us: and why the hell would she? We're nothing but a bunch of 'Failures' for her to collect like trophies and these sorry fools can't see that. And by the time they figure it out, it'll most likely be too late to do anything about it.' I thought, sending a silent 'nod' of thanks as I finished my lunch and one of the Kitchen Staff made short work of the dishes and scuttled away with them in her arms: ready to be cleaned spotless and ready for use again in time for dinner.
Watching a silent conversation begin to stir between Alcina and her daughters, I turned my attention to the older woman as the girls quietly stood from their seats, tucked them in, and obediently gave us the privacy that Alcina had apparently asked for. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you failed to answer my previous question, Sister." she said, taking a meticulous sip of her wine: blue eyes burning holes through my hood as I met her gaze with my own obscured one. "And you're not going to get one, none of you are: and not because I don't consider myself proficuous, but it seems as though my Cadou has yet to actually develop any. The most it's given me is inhuman strength, nothing noteworthy yet: aside from my physical attributes." I replied, lying through my fanged teeth and not batting an eye as the aforementioned parasite tightened its grip harshly around my neck with an undignified 'squeak'. Watching her gaze sharpen into a predatory glare as she focused on the creature's movement, I knew she knew I was lying: but whether or not she would call me out on it was another matter entirely.
"Hmm…how selcouth: usually our Mother's gifts are granted instantaneously, for yours to be so…sloth in its development makes me think you're trying to excogitate a lie. Now, I wonder why you would be going to such lengths, Sister? Is it because your gifts aren't truly yours? You think yourself unparagoned? Or perhaps…you fear what makes you above the pitiful Mortals? I can assure you: you would have far more to fear from Mother Miranda's wrath than any power she has granted you. Lie to me again, and you'll be begging for repentance while you painfully suffer the consequences: be it through whatever punishment she deems fit, or as I slice you to ribbons myself. Your rebellious actions reflect poorly on us in Mother Miranda's eyes, and I will NOT tolerate you soiling House Dimitrescu's reputation and immaculate standing with your adamancy. One way or another, she will learn of your gifts, Sister: do keep in mind that the longer you procrastinate, the angrier she will become: and the worse your punishment shall be." Alcina borderline 'snarled': voice keeping its usual, Victorian tilt: yet tightened like a coiling viper, venom leaking freely from bared fangs in a threat that even had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up in outrage.
'Show your teeth, bitch: and I'll introduce you to how it feels being ground into chum while you're still alive. Perhaps I'll stew you up for your daughters to eat, wouldn't that be a fitting scenario?' I thought, grinding my fangs against my molars as my vision adopted the orange-tinted hues: blending with the white and gold filigree of the surrounding walls until it seemed as though I were watching an old film reel. "You can believe what you want, take it up with my Cadou, for all I care: but don't you dare threaten me for things I can't control, Alcina. I've agreed to follow Miranda's wishes and visit each of you like she wanted: but that doesn't give you the right to threaten me. For the sake of things, I'll let this one go: but I will not tolerate being talked down to like I'm below you, because I assure you: starting a fight with me is most unwise. Once I know what powers I have, if any, I'll share them: and only then. As you said when we met, we're all 'Miranda's Children': and are to treat each other as equals whilst in her presence, I'm not one of your servants: speak to me like that again, and all former pleasantries will be burnt to ash. I won't repeat myself again." I growled back, initiating a glaring contest for several minutes: neither of us wavering or backing down as we each tried to force a weakness out of the other.
Eventually though, Alcina blinked, shifting her piercing gaze back to her chalice as she took another long sip of her wine: breaking the tense, silent stand-off until it settled into an uneasy truce. "Hrmph. Then let us hope your late-blooming gifts aren't defective: for your sake. And while you contemplate the reason for such an unfortunate circumstance you've managed to find yourself in: know that even I can get angry, and whilst you reside in my Castle, you will obey my requests as if they were coming from Mother Miranda herself: or you will learn what it means to insult House Dimitrescu. For now, you may go: entertain yourself as you see fit for the remainder of the day." she stated, dismissing me like one of her maids with a 'swish' of her wrist, and while it almost made me want to snatch that arm and snap it like a twig: I also didn't need to be told twice, rising to my feet and tucking the chair back under the table: mimicking the girls' actions and made my way to the mahogany doors.
"And…Sister." Alcina called, a casual tilt to her voice that made me pause: gloved hand gripping the doorknob as I tilted my head to the side, catching the sly, insidious gleam in her blue eyes as she held her crimson glass up to the light of the chandelier: showing the fresh, dark blood shifting within the bottom third of the colored glass. "Should there ever come a day where Mother Miranda gives the word: just know, that the 'Rodent' cannot run from the 'Dragon's Claws'." she said, focused entirely on the blood-wine in the glass: yet the subtle threat was definitely not lost on me, nor was the sheer irony of that statement in particular. 'Indeed.' I thought, equally stiff from that comment: and that comment alone gave me an extremely-insightful idea about the meaning behind her particular choice of words, or rather…the hint hidden within that statement.
'Of course. Of-fucking-course. It all makes perfect sense now…the irony is utterly sickening: well, now I have a sickening suspicion of what sort of monstrous creature she'll 'Shift' into. Isn't that ironic?' I thought, putting the pieces together in record time: the Infected woman's sheer size, her diet of human meat and blood, her obsession with treasures and finery, and the fact that she resides in a Castle of all places. "Well…at least she's not a true vampire: that level of cliché would certainly kill more than a few brain cells." I muttered to myself, shaking my head at the thought: pinching the bridge of my nose to chase away another migraine before I forced my mind to think about something else instead of the annoyingly-similar traits that suddenly made too much sense. However, doing so had also required using a fair amount of tolerance and energy to keep my noisy mind from drifting back on other things as I wandered aimlessly throughout the interior of the Castle in search of something to do that didn't involve bending over backwards for any more Infected today.
While she obviously intended for me to seek out the girls and 'play' with them some more, I found my feet taking me on a memorized journey through corridors and hallways until I found myself across the Courtyard and heading back up the dark wooden staircase that led to their miniscule Library: hoping the company of the dusty old books would calm my nerves enough to avoid jumping into any further aggressive confrontations for the remainder of my stay in this Castle. Running my gloved hand over the old, leatherbound spines: I subconsciously memorized the individual textures, thicknesses and height of each one: seemingly in a daze and randomly selected a smaller, longer book from its snug place in the corner of the emptiest bookshelf. Brushing the minuscule amount of dust from the cover, I took in the dark-grey leather and golden stripes on the spine: the gold extending to fit each of the corners, border and elegant-yet-sinister cursive font of the Title on the front. Under the glass of the overhead dome: I was able to make out the subtle, darker designs within the dark-grey cover: giving it a thorny, vined appearance.
"Hmm…'Village of Shadows': why does that sound like something Burton or 'R.L Stein' would write?" I asked myself, carrying the book over to one of the plush chairs to the side of the room: the overhead sunbeam providing both warmth from the afternoon sun and more-than-enough light to read, not that my eyes needed it in the first place. Cracking open the book, I immediately recognized that it was a children's book: complete with hand-drawn pictures and easy-to-read lettering. Feeling an amused 'huff' sneak out from between my lips, I noticed that the art style was definitely designed by Burton, and if it wasn't: that was a goddamn shame, because that shit was spot-on. Making myself comfortable, I cracked open the book to the first page: feeling a strange, sudden sense of nostalgia, even though I'd never read this particular book before.
'Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries for her father: who was hard at work. But the Forest greeted them with a dark, cold silence: the bushes empty. Yet determined to find the berries, the Rascal broke free from Mother's grasp and vanished into the trees. Mother's worried cries faded fast as the girl ran on: over vine and under branch, and into the Forest Deep. Feeling strange eyes upon her, the girl recalled Mother's scary bedtime tales and her throat became bone-dry. Then, 'The Bat Lord' appeared! He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing! "Hello, Lost Child. Come quench your thirst, and drink this blood: to bring you joy." he said. So, she drank the thick, dark blood: and smiled with joy. Passing through a Graveyard, menacing storm clouds loomed: and the air turned bitingly cold. The girl was shivering in her thin clothes. Then, a 'Dark Weaver' appeared: and with a 'click' of his fingers, crafted mist into a beautiful dress. "Come Child. I give you this dress. To warm yourself, a perfect fit." he coaxed. So, she clothed herself, and smiled with joy. Across Waters deep and ominous, she went. Hoping a boat she'd found would carry her Home. But Hunger's grip tightened and her heart grew heavy. Then, 'The Fish King' appeared and offered one of his many fins. "Come Child. Here is my fin. Eat as you wish." he said. So, the girl ate, and smiled with joy once more. Continuing on, she soon entered the Forest's Dark Heart. Then an 'Iron Steed' appeared: bearing a beautiful, golden gear. The creature said nothing as the girl approached, and snatched…what she thought was another gift. The Horse grew angry and summoned the other Monsters! Terror filled the girl's heart as a wild wind rose around the beasts! Suddenly, a Witch appeared: Dark, yet Regal. "Gifts we gave, but more you took." she snarled. "So more, in turn, is due!" in a blink, the girl was trapped inside a mirror. Her parents though, had searched all day and at last, arrived. With rampant rage, Father fought the Witch: while Mother's loving touch shattered the Dark Enchantment. But the Witch was strong and Father yelled, "Save our daughter!" So, Mother bore their Child to safety as the Forest was consumed by the ever-hungry flames. Even now, 'The Burnt Forest' is a grim reminder of 'Father's Sacrifice'. To this day, any child who stares too long into the charred wasteland, will be haunted by nightmares of getting lost while picking berries. The End.' I read, pleasantly surprised to find that the book was written in English, despite it clearly being local folklore. And while it was dark and slightly-creepy for a child's bedtime story: it also reminded me of several things, things that were both painful to think about, and dear to me: things that helped keep me sane.
Pinching my eyes shut, I shook my head to chase the memories away as they threatened to bubble up to the forefront of my mind, rising from the almost too-comfortable chair and returned the book to its resting place. Straightening my spine, I withheld a 'sigh' of pleasure and relief as the majority of my vertebrae and joints shifted with several, loud 'snaps': making the stiffness in my limbs melt away until I felt my limbs grow heavy: as if they were turned into lead. Shaking the feeling away, I glanced up through the glass, domed roof and tried to get a glimpse of the sun through the building clouds: trying to get a read on the time. It wasn't until I heard the deep, rhythmic baritone of a Grandfather Clock: making me feel stupid as its chime echoed three times from somewhere relatively-close by. 'That late already? How long was that book?' I wondered, before brushing off the seemingly-rapid passage of time and headed back down the stairs: deciding to indulge in a few more songs on Alcina's piano in order to relax and calm my exhausted nerves.
Resting my hands above the keys, I decided to ignore Miranda's apparent demands to keep the people of the Village oblivious to the outside world and opted to enjoy playing another one of my favorite pieces. As my fingers danced along the obsidian and ivory keys, the tune for 'May It Be' sprung from the ornate, antique piano: echoing off the walls as if I were playing in an Opera House, and based of Alcina's choice of décor: that image wasn't far off from the truth. 'Hopefully this makes Tolkien proud.' I thought, not sure why the thought came to me, but it took my mind off the heavier things: for the moment, at least. Playing the nostalgic tune two more times, it wasn't much longer before the soothing, rhythmic 'pitter-patter' of rain made its presence known against the windows: starting from a slight drizzle, before eventually growing into another thunderstorm. Good sleeping and reading weather. Unfortunately, I was too wired to even attempt to sleep: and too anxious to continue reading. So, without the consent of my brain: my gloved hands shifted position and began dancing along the keys in a much different, and darker tune.
''Dark Für Elise', been a while since I've indulged in this one.' I noted, recognizing the notes that my subconsious apparently decided on while my mind drifted: too mentally exhausted to question how or why it decided to creep up on me now. How convenient it was, to have the thunderstorm add to the macabre tones and ominous notes: even seemed to add the cliché streaks of lightning across the sky as soon as the deeper, angrier keys were struck. Eventually, the song came to an end, and while the storm continued to rage outside: it was only appropriate to continue to adjust to the atmosphere. Flexing the cramps out of my fingers, I repositioned my hands again and lightly pressed against the light notes in a slow, unhurried pace: setting the tune for a song I liked to call 'Sociopath'…and what a bitterly-ironic name that was.
While the song itself contained light and dark notes of equal measure: it was the pace of this one in particular that really made those that heard it stop and think: the slow, steady pace spoke volumes to some and cause tension in others. One might say it was composed by one who enjoyed the thrill of the chase: enjoyed knowing their prey could run all they wanted, yet would never escape. And while I took no pleasure in the slaughter of innocents, despite what others might think: I made sure those who deserved nothing less got everything they were owed, and weren't granted the mercy of death until I was damned good and ready to let them have it. Unfortunately, my drifting thoughts caused me to lose concentration and accidentally hit the wrong note: striking the wrong key with a painfully-sharp 'twang'. Cringing at the grating noise, I stared blankly at the detailed filigree of the piano for several minutes before rising from the bench: drifting, stormy thoughts and anxious nerves chasing away any further enjoyment out of relaxing in my rare moments of peace and quiet.
Normally, when such a mood hit, I would go for a very long run: through forests, within the high canopy of trees, or through the claustrophobic tunnels of caves. Anything that would help in burning off the sudden spikes of adrenaline and need to put my enhanced form to work: much like an animal built to run, to hunt and work being kept in a kennel and eventually losing its mind with the need to do what it was bred for. Unfortunately, the Cadou around my neck prevented me from straying too far away from where Miranda demanded I stay: that being said, I would have to find new ways to adapt to the sheer boredom practically vibrating through me like an unwanted sugar-rush. 'Like a hamster to a wheel. Fuck's sake.' I thought, feeling my eyebrow 'twitch' as my annoyance built: suddenly wanting to bury my head in the wall as I was reminded of the incident that birthed this particular addition that had happened sometime during one of my…'Adjustment Sessions' in the facility: when I just wasn't good enough to do what they designed me for.
Feeling a murderous 'snarl' want to form in the back of my throat at the mere memory of those times, I fought to ignore both the threats and screams in my head, and the denizens of the Castle as I paced the Grounds like a trapped, rabid beast. It wasn't until I found myself back in the hallway with the angel statues, did I notice a change in my surroundings: a subtle one, but a change nonetheless. To a normal human, they'd think the change was a new, colorful bouquet of fresh wildflowers resting at the twin Socrates' feet, or the fresh wax on the marble floor. To me, the change came in the form of a small gas lantern resting against a small doorway that had gone relatively unnoticed: since I assumed it was some sort of storage closet at first glance. In addition to the lantern was a multitude of scents that I had smelled before: spices, gunpowder and preserved meats, a cocktail that only sparked my curiosity and caution in equal measure.
'He couldn't possibly! There's no fucking way!' I thought, connecting the dots that those scents had originated from The Duke's carriage: and unless the maids had stored Alcina's purchases in that room, there was no possible way in hell that he himself had decided to enter the Castle, let along reside in a fucking closet of all possible places. My frenzied, overworked thoughts came to a standstill in an instant at the sound of his laugh: a short, sarcastic-sounding thing, but it confirmed the very idea that every sensible ounce of rationale was struggling to deny. Taking a deep breath and struggled to get my scatterbrained thoughts and scathing voices to focus on the singular fact that Duke was in fact, behind that door, instead of several dozen irrelevant things at once: I was honestly shocked that I still haven't gone insane…or perhaps I have and I was unaware of it, would make disturbing sense: all things considered. Pushing open the door, I wasn't exactly sure what I expected, but seeing The Duke in all his massive glory squeezed in a snug nook in a makeshift shop that had originally been a 'Trophy Room' of some sort: definitely wasn't on that list. 'How the fuck did he even?' I wondered, taking in the sight of him as he fiddled with a lighter and a cigar of his own: clearly making himself comfortable as he brandished his wares on the silk tablecloth in front of him.
"Oh ho! We meet again! Good afternoon, Miss Shira! How are things?" he greeted, sounding ever-happy to see me as he glanced downward: yet not surprised that I haven't somehow been reduced to a meal. "Duke. Don't think this question rude, but…how the hell?" I questioned, my confused curiosity drawing a knowing smile from the massive inhuman being as his pudgy fingers eventually managed to light up his cigar and took several puffs from it. "All 'Tools of the Trade', my dear! Where there's coin to be made, is where you will find me: I am a Merchant, after all. One might even say they're 'Natural Gifts'! And speaking of 'Gifts', care to make a purchase?" he asked, no doubt fully aware that I still didn't have any coin to offer him: no, this time he wanted something else in exchange. "As I said earlier, I have no lei for you: and I've been more preoccupied with trying not to make myself a target than scourge for treasures. But you already knew that, didn't you?" I stated, crossing my arms over my chest as he had the audacity to widen his smile and expose his teeth at me: not at all surprised that I had figured it out, it seems.
"Naturally. But as we have also previously discussed, there are alternative ways to do business: several of which would be quite beneficial to you and your…talents." he replied, paying no mind to my suddenly-tense shoulders or narrowed eyes: while he appeared harmless, there was more than one way to be a threat: and it didn't have to be physical. "Such as?" I questioned again, not liking how he was dancing around the subject instead of giving me a straight answer: and it was burning a hole in what little remained of my patience. "Forgive me for assuming, but I believe that's not the question you're truly searching for the answer to. Tell me, Miss Shira: what is it you're looking for?" he asked, friendly smile shifting into something more devious as his blue eyes bored into mine through the beak of my hood: he knew what I wanted, and was taking great pleasure in making me ask for it.
'You're certainly devious and bold: if I actually trusted you, I'd even go so far as to call you brave.' I thought, tilting my hood down in silent acceptance of the sheer audacity of whatever he was: granting him a miniscule amount of my respect, not many have the stones to do that…and manage to walk away. "If I ask for information, what would it cost to expose my inquiry?" I asked, feeling my lip 'tug' in a frown as he raised an eyebrow at the question: slapping away the embers of his ashes as they dropped painfully on his exposed stomach. "Ah. You wound me, my dear! As I've stated before, your confidentiality is quite safe with me, I assure you. While it is only natural for you to have your suspicions: it's bad for business if I had turned my Clients on one another, especially when one such as you has joined my list of valuable Customers. I'm not one for Politics, you see: and I'm also not keen on losing an entire Territory to a few…shall we say, 'Misunderstandings'. So please, feel free to speak your mind: The Emporium is quite safe from 'Eavesdroppers' as well: ask away, my dear!" he chirped, not exactly reassuring me: but from several other points of view, I could see where betraying the trust of a potential Client would not end favorably for him.
"Fine. Have it your way. I'm looking for information: specifically, information on Miranda's Cadou, what would it cost me for you to tell me how to remove it: without bringing the axe down on my neck?" I ground out, struggling to keep my neutral tone and Biomass in check as I 'bit the bullet' and spat out the question that I had been forced to ask: and not because I was too weak to do so myself: but if he knew a way to remove the vile parasite without having it alert Miranda to my attempts, or having the aggravating little shit break my neck again: I'd consider any alternatives he'd offer. 'And not out of desperation or necessity: but one way or another, you slimy fuck: you WILL let go of me...if only so I can watch you squirm and writhe as you burn to a crisp.' I thought nastily, taking a slight satisfaction as said Cadou shifted its grip in an almost…nervous manner.
"Why…you already have the means to alleviate your plight, Miss Shira: in fact, the means to do so is not far away. However, the task will come with a price, if you're willing to pay it. Miranda's methods are unfortunately out of reach of my influence: as part of our agreement to grant me visitation with the locals to do business, you see. To remove a Cadou such as yours will require a very special tool, one hidden somewhere deep within these very walls: said to have been used to contain the methods necessary to remove it without Mother Miranda's knowledge." he explained, making me raise an eyebrow as he dangled the bait like a raw steak to a starving wolf: giving just enough to catch my interest, while remaining vague enough to make me beg for more.
"And the price?" I questioned, feeling an unnatural chill run down the back of my body suit: ripples of goosebumps prickling across the fabric as a million different forms of 'payment' flashed across my mind's eye: and not all of them ideal. "The Lady of the Castle has carried many items of high value throughout her governance: from lei, to gold, to priceless jewels. In her possession is a necklace of gold and blood-pigeon rubies: bring it to me, and I'll be more-than-happy to purchase it: consider it a fair trade for the location of the item you require." he replied, describing the item he wanted me to steal from Alcina, and from the sounds of it: it would be worth more than its fair share of information in the trade he was offering. "Fair enough. Where would I find this necklace?" I asked, feeling a sense of dread creep up the back of my neck as Duke smiled: and that's when I knew, it was going to be harder to obtain than I originally thought.
"Why, Miss Shira: that's where your talents come into play! The necklace has unfortunately become the victim of a minor incident that has rendered it into three, separate pieces: two within the Village, while the last remains here. Surely you would make quick work of this little 'Scavenger Hunt'? I've been told your skills in such things are ingenious?" he baited again, seemingly amused as I quietly seethed where I stood, before taking a deep breath and steeled myself again. 'Of course…because why not?' I thought, sending him a flat, unimpressed look as I thought it over: as least he was kind enough to give me some form of a hint, otherwise I'd be searching for months: for my Sonar ability did not work like he was implying. "And how much are you deducting for the hint?" I questioned, not even bothering to keep the inquisitive tone in my voice anymore, not since I figured out that hints: no matter what form they took, always came with a price.
"It's an invaluable talent you've created for yourself: that mind of yours. To have access to all the brilliant minds of those you catalogue within yourself: I have no doubt that it and the rest of your remarkable abilities will serve you well within this Village. As you know, 'a Cage is a Cage': no matter its design, whether rusted or gilded, lonely or encumbered. And if you take a closer look: you might just find the means to pick the lock. All it takes, is a second glance: isn't that right, Miss Shira?" he said, a strange, secretive undertone slipping into his mischievous banter: as if he knew something I didn't, a hint within a hint. And as much as the mind games were starting to piss me off, Duke was also trying to prove he had good sources stashed away: willing to allow a peek if asked, and only then. Unfortunately for me, it worked: and the cunning bastard knew it, and was taking great pleasure in watching me squirm.
"Fine. I'll consider your offer, should Miranda grant me passage to the Village: I'll search for the missing pieces, thank you for your insight." I said, knowing it wasn't exactly the answer Duke wanted: but he also didn't seem too bothered by the delay, in fact, I would bet he actually expected it. "I look forward to seeing the fruits of your exploration, Miss Shira: please come again!" he chirped, happy and friendly persona returning as he bid me farewell with the same mock-bow as before: only his eyes held the same, devious glint Miranda carries: only this time, I sensed it was for a completely different reason. 'The sooner I can get you off, the sooner I won't have to deal with this bullshit anymore.' I thought, sending the Merchant a 'nod' and slipped out the door: too proud to admit the chills racing up my spine were back, and there was no doubt in my mind that The Duke was the cause of my virus' abnormal unease. And that was a fact that proved to me that not everything was as it seemed in this place: the real question was, at the end of the day, who was playing who? And who would be the one to remain standing once the tension inevitably broke?
"Pieces. Like a game of Chess: we're all just pieces on a board, meant to be taken and sacrificed for the end goal. The Crow obviously desperately wants something, and needs us to achieve it: but what does The Duke want? And why the fuck do I feel like I'm playing for the wrong side, regardless? If I slaughter Miranda, am I really doing it out of my own volition…or someone else's? What's the real objective?" I muttered to myself, trying in vain to figure out the plan behind all this, feeling another migraine form with a vengeance as it occurred to me that there was more at stake here: more players in the game, players hiding behind the sidelines. And that was the straw that broke my brain for the day: forcing myself to blank my painful thoughts and think it over later…maybe one of the voices would possibly feel like helping me figure it out: most likely not, but it was worth a shot. After all, I've got something Miranda doesn't: and that was an advantage I planned to use to the fullest extent when the time came. The real question was, there was almost always another player waiting to step in once the boundaries shifted: Power searching for a place to rest its head, and why do I feel like I already knew who was waiting in the shadows, despite having no clue as to who it was?
Forcing that thought away with a fair amount of difficulty, it immediately made space for another concern that's been bugging me since I first laid eyes on The Duke: his horse and carriage carried the scent of the wares and places they've been. But Duke himself…it was almost as if he didn't carry one: and that was something that should've been impossible, everything had a scent, but for reasons I couldn't explain, he did not. 'And this notion is going to drive every single voice in my skull batshit nuts if I don't stop thinking about it! Just shut up and watch! Pounce when it's time and fuck off with the overthinking before this migraine makes me black out!' I chastised myself: giving myself a mental kick in the ass for good measure, grateful the virus made short work of the throbbing ache behind my eyeballs: however, the stress remained and would continue to stick around until I figured things out: I just hoped that there would be enough time to do what needed to be done, for I had a bad feeling that it wouldn't just be me that was screwed if I failed.