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"They've offered her a home there?" Harkat crouched low, his hands covering his head in anticipation of the blows he so often received at the hands of the young Vampaneze. However, none came; instead the boy took out his frustration on the chair he was sitting on. He hurled it across the chamber where it met an unfortunate end against a stone wall. Panting heavily, Steve held on to a piece of gold lining which had come off in his hands. He twisted the ragged piece of cloth into a ball and turned to face his servant again. Harkat bowed and continued.
"If she refrains from hunting, Mr Tall is prepared to offer her a place within the Cirque." Before him, the boy laughed harshly.
"Well there's no point in worrying then! Rose loves to hunt. She's as bloodthirsty as they come!" He leaned against the wall, a cocky expression playing on his features. Nevertheless, Harkat felt inclined to interrupt.
"She has been surviving on Mr Crepsley's blood vials so far," croaked the small creature as he flinched under the cruel stare of his master. At the mention of his arch enemy's name, Murlough stepped out of the shadows and spat venomously on the ground.
"Urgh! Crapsley's blood?" He gasped, "Is that even possible?" Steve narrowed his eyes.
"Maybe," he reasoned, "but not for long. She'll snap – you'll see. I won't even need to intervene, she'll mess this opportunity up on her own."
"I'm surprised she's even considering living with them," muttered Murlough from his spot in the darkness, "Surely you taught her not to mix with freaks?" He laughed at the scowl on his prodigy's face and kicked Harkat for good measure. Harkat stumbled to his knees and rubbed his side, grimacing in pain. The old Vampaneze chuckled and strode past barely glancing at the servant.
"She can do what she wants, I don't care!"Growled Steve ignoring the sceptical looks the others gave him. He walked the length of the great hall, his patience thinning with every step he took towards the large wooden door. Finally, his hand resting on the handle, he turned slightly towards Murlough and Harkat who were still at the far end of the chamber. The boy's crimson eyes were hardly visible through the dark shadow which crossed his face. Harkat could just make out the cruel sneer on his lips as he uttered his instructions.
"Keep it up Harkat. I want to know everything." Next to Harkat, Murlough began to splutter.
"Don't listen to him you," he prodded the little monster with the tip of his old worn boot, "Me thinks his stalking is turning into a bit of an obsession!"
The half Vampaneze flit so quickly that Murlough hadn't noticed until he was just inches from his face. Steve bared his teeth and spat out his words in a fit of rage.
"I am not obsessed!" He stammered angrily, his eyes blazing. He then flit back down the chamber and out the door, slamming it so hard that the room shook. Quite an achievement for a stone building.
The rest of the old building was relatively well lit. Expensive looking chandeliers hung from beautifully decorated ancient ceilings and the stone walls were decorated with candles and paintings. Once he was safely on the other side of the oak door, Steve slowed down, confident Murlough wouldn't follow him. He paused to rest beneath a great Rembrandt painting; it had been one of Rose's favourites. Steve studied the dark edges around the painting. The paint was thicker in some parts than others. He tried to recall the name of the brush strokes used but failed. Rose had often talked about the styles and techniques the old masters used: chiaroscuro, blah and blah, however Steve had rarely listened to what she had said, preferring to watch her instead. He turned away from the painting, angry with himself for thinking about Ro- that girl again. Perhaps Murlough wasn't completely wrong; he was becoming a little fanatical where Rose was concerned. Everything reminded him of her, everything thing from her old coffin to the paintings which lined the corridor's walls. Steve became aware of the painting watching him again and felt his cheeks redden. He swivelled to face it, prepared to tear the blank expression from the old painters face with just his fingernails, thus ruining Rose's precious painting forever. Suddenly a hand shot out from nowhere and gripped his outstretched arm around the wrist.
"Not too close, son," said Mr Tiny politely, "you might smudge it." His grip increased on the boy's arm as Steve showed no sign of backing down. Finally, Steve began to feel a pain shoot through his wrist and so he shook the man from him and took several steps backwards, a grimace still lingering on his features.
"Weren't going to touch it," he muttered, glaring at the oil painting. The oil painting seemed to glare back and so Mr Tiny, noticing Steve suddenly grow tense, stepped in between the boy and his valuable art work.
"Good. It's one of my favourites," smiled the man toothily.
"Yeah, I gathered it's popular," snarled Steve, looking at the offending piece over Mr Tiny's shoulder. Quickly leading the boy away, Mr Tiny pursued the subject with care.
"Ah yes, one of your friend's preferred pieces as I recall," he looked sideways to watch the boy but his expression didn't change. He pressed on.
"I see she's found our friends at the Cirque."
"Yeah, some company," spat the boy. This earned a chuckle from his companion. The two continued to walk deeper into the dungeons where the Vampaneze currently lived. The air around them grew colder and their footsteps echoed around the unnaturally lit hallways. Mr Tiny flicked a spot of dust off the shoulder of his suit and glanced over at Steve. He was wearing all black as usual. Black frayed jeans with a plain black t-shirt. The only splash of colour visible was the red thin lining on the inside of his black light jacket. Steve turned to face him abruptly after noticing his continued stare and glowered at him but his scowl was met with a friendly smile. The boy was going to need some work if he was going to fulfil even a part of the prophecy Mr Tiny had laid out for him. Fortunately Steve already possessed the desire to accomplish the prophecy, even if he didn't fully understand what it involved. All Mr Tiny had to do was make sure that girl didn't get in the way and luckily Mr Tall had listened to his suggestion of welcoming Rose into the Cirque.
"All the same, she's happy there," shrugged Mr Tiny, hoping to destroy any hope the boy had for her return. Steve remained silent, an indication showing he couldn't care less, or at least, he hoped. Mr Tiny let the subject drop positive he'd convinced the boy he was alone in the Vampaneze world however he noticed Steve's shoulders were dangerously near to drooping so he suggested they hunt soon, a proposition he knew the boy would be incapable of resisting. However to his complete surprise, his offer was declined.
"No thanks," said Steve, "maybe later." Mr Tiny watched the young Vampaneze continue along the corridor into the heart of the building alone and sighed to himself. Youth today was so difficult to control.
In his room, Steve collapsed into his coffin and slammed the lid furiously. He was too angry to bother wondering why and so he decided to place the blame on Rose, the haunting subject of his thoughts for many weeks now. He'd been miserable since she had left, although he tried to remind himself he had been miserable whilst she was with him too. Rose had always found something to complain about, constantly acting as his loud and persistent conscience.
"It's so dark and damp down here!"
"Do we have to rip our food to shreds before we eat it? We're spilling most of the blood!"
"Why throw things Steve? Can't we just talk these arguments through?"
Several phrases sprang to mind as he recalled her constant criticisms. Unused to having someone watch out for him his whole life, someone besides Darren who was never as strong natured as he was, had made him resent Rose's habit of being over protective but now she was gone, he found himself missing her companionship and caring attitude. Why did he miss that? He preferred his own company in general and went to great lengths to protect his freedom. Mr Tiny had often told him that quality would ensure he fulfilled his destiny. His unattatchments were key to his success and so, in the long run, it was better if he remained alone. But why was he still ordering one of Mr Tiny's Little People to keep tracking her? Even Steve couldn't fully explain his actions but for some reason, he felt better knowing where she was and if she was safe out there. The Freak show wasn't exactly an ideal home for Rose but he supposed if she was really happy there, like he had been told, then it was better than keeping her somewhere she didn't want to be - like by his side.