XVI. Dead Soul
The vampire sat still and silent in the dark room, her thin form garbed only in a tattered and bloody hospital gown. Her wrists and ankles were clamped in thick iron manacles, though these were merely for the benefit of the jailers since everyone knew that she could easily break through the restraints. Long dark hair hung over her pale features, shrouding all but her glowing blue eyes in the shadows cast by the wan light of the lone iridescent bulb hanging overhead. The walls of the room were covered in once-white tile. Both time and neglect had caused them to become cracked and yellow, while the few missing tiles left bare plaster exposed to the dim yellow light.
The vampire was seated upon a cold metal chair next to a rugged metal table. Like the room she was in, both pieces of furniture were old and much abused. The tabletop, once pristine and shiny, was now marred with numerous scratches, stains and dents. The sad thing was that the vampire actually remembered this very room and its furnishings when they had been new and immaculate. That had been so long ago, though, when Millenium had first taken possession of this facility. How many years had it been, exactly? Twenty? Thirty? She couldn't quite remember. All the years seemed to blend together in her mind. That had been what her life was like after the war: one long, unending haze.
That is, until she became a vampire. When she had given up her humanity, the peaceful tranquility of self-imposed exile ended to make way for the blood, the screams, and the nightmares.
The lone door into the windowless, dilapidated room slammed open without warning. From the gaping portal entered the Major, still spry in both mind and body despite the decades of hardship hiding out in the jungles of South America. The vampire almost shot up out of her seat to stand at attention, but for some reason held herself back. Was it because of the chains? Maybe. Yes, it was the chains. She didn't wish to break them.
The old man, still resplendent in his Waffen SS uniform, sighed sadly as he looked over her ragged state. "First Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle. You disappoint me."
The vampire flinched, her face burning in shame. After all these decades, she still hated to upset her superior. He, and the glorious ideals of the Millenium Group, were all that she had left, after all.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. Even to her ears, the apology sounded pathetic.
The Major shook his head, the frown on his chubby face deepening. "What happened there, exactly? You were doing so well."
The vampire grit her teeth in both fury and frustration as she remembered the previous night's mission. It was to have been a simple test of her new abilities, what amounted to an elementary operation. The Major's scouts had reported spotting a village of leftists in the jungles nearby. Such a settlement, one composed of people neither the local populace nor the authorities would miss, was quite ideal for Millenium's purposes. She had been ordered to wipe them out, to kill and feed and basically enjoy herself. And she had done so, for the most part. She slaughtered the guerillas without mercy, drinking of their blood as her new body demanded, gorging on their life essence in order to strengthen her own. Throughout the carnage, the Doktor was gaining valuable bits of data from the chip inside of her, which recorded and transmitted back to Millenium headquarters. All had been going according to plan.
And then she saw the children. There were three of them, huddled together in one of the tents, shaking with absolute terror. The three had obviously seen what she had done to their parents, seen the almost orgiastic joy she had exhibited as her teeth and claws tore the men and women apart. Their innocent eyes saw her as a monster, and they were right.
As soon as the vampire saw their pale, accusing stares, her blood lust vanished. All she could see was the horror reflected in their big, wide eyes, and for the first time in decades she felt shame seize her. The thrill of the kill, the ecstasy of the slaughter, the pleasure from the blood; all of it disappeared, as if blown away like ash on the wind. She felt like a child herself being caught by adults after doing something she wasn't supposed to.
The vampire remembered screaming then, her voice full of shame and horror as it echoed throughout the night. She remembered running, her long legs dashing through the thick vines and bushes, her thin arms tearing through saplings and brush. She had no idea how long she had run, only that she felt complete and utter loathing at herself as she remembered the wide, baleful gaze of those children in the camp.
Her mad dash through the jungle was finally halted when the Captain caught up with her. Since the man didn't age like the rest of the original Millenium personnel, the vampire had always suspected that he wasn't quite as human as he appeared. Her concern was proven correct when the tall man swiftly and easily incapacitated her. All it took were two mighty blows from his fists, and even she, with her newly enhanced strength and speed, could not match him. She woke up as she was now, chained and in rags, in the ruined tile room, staring shamefully at the Major as he shook his head in disappointment at her.
"I am sorry, Major. I was weak," she told her leader, feeling utterly disgraced. She was an officer of Millenium, for God's sake! How could she act like such a coward?
The old officer merely chuckled, then gave the vampire a small shrug of his shoulders. "Oh, it's fine. Don't be too hard on yourself, First Lieutenant. You are, after all, the first of your kind. The first artificially created vampire! The first in an eventual long line. It comes to me as no surprise that there would be... ahem, hiccups along the way. That's what the testing phase is for, after all. To iron out the wrinkles in the plan." He then gave her a grin, one that caused his aged lips to widen as the lenses of his glasses reflected the light from the room's bulb brightly.
The vampire looked away, feeling a slight tingle of fear. Although she loved the Major like a father, every time he looked at her like that, she became afraid. It was the same stare a cat would give a cornered mouse.
"Tell me, First Lieutenant," the Major spoke up. "Do you trust me?"
Her eyes suddenly widened in shock, and she looked up at him sharply. "Of course, Major!" she stated stiffly, a slight tone of bewilderment to her voice, like she was aghast that he would even think of asking her such a thing. "I trust you with my life!"
"Good! Good!" The old man clapped his gloved hands, seeming very pleased. "Doktor!"
The scientist shuffled into the room through the open door, his multi-lensed spectacles making him look like a spider skittering towards her. The years had not been kind to the Doktor, as decades of rigorous research and experimentation with numerous hazardous materials had all but ruined his body. He looked decades older than his years. But, if the vampiric conversion process could be proven to be a success, and perhaps even improved, then all the sacrifices the Doktor had performed would be worth it.
"Do you have it?" The Major asked.
"Yes," the scientist passed something to the officer, who in turn placed the object atop the table and in front of the vampire.
She looked down and eyed the small amber bottle wearily. Through the dark glass she could see tiny white pills, each about the size of a small beetle.
"The concentration should be within parameters of your body's new chemical balance," the Doktor stated as he flipped through a clipboard of notes. "I also took into consideration your numerous new organs and cybernetic implants. From the data I collected from the chip, your cloned organs show zero degradation and the implants are all working within specification. It's all quite remarkable. Thus, the mixture I prepared should work." The physician then glanced up from the notes and looked her dead in the eye. "Just make sure to take the pills every day. It is imperative that you not miss a dose, as the chemical balance must be strictly maintained. If it is off even by the slightest bit, it could have drastic consequences on your system."
The vampire frowned down at the pills on the table, not liking the Doktor's stern warnings. "But... what exactly are they for? What are they supposed to do?"
The Major choked, stifling a laugh. "Oh, my dear. What do they do? Well, it's quite simple." The old man gave her another one of his eerie smiles. "These wonderful little pills will destroy your soul."
The vampire felt a tinge of apprehension rise up from within her chest, but with a vicious effort she forced the weak emotion down. She was fed up with looking weak in front of her comrades and superiors, tired of her human frailties. She wanted all her weaknesses gone, to become the monster that she truly was.
Rip Van Winkle gave the Major a mirthless smirk of her own, then stated, "Is that all, sir? I gave up such a worthless thing a long time ago."
This time the Major allowed himself to laugh.
0
Rip Van Winkle burst out of her cot, her limbs somewhat tangled in her blankets as she attempted to struggle up to her hands and knees. Pain wracked her mind, the haze of sleep still clinging to her psyche as she struggled against the coverings wrapped around her. Eventually she tore through the cloth in her mad scramble, crawling on hands and knees to the corner of the pitch-black room whereupon she began to heave. Her mind was in a state, as it had been for the last few days. Waking every morning was agony as she suffered through both nausea and the brutal migraines brought on by the effects of the pill. The Doktor had warned her that not taking the medicine regularly could have dire effects on her body, and now she was suffering the consequences.
The vampire continued to heave and cough until eventually her efforts were rewarded. From her mouth erupted a stream of dark red blood which splattered against the stone wall and floor. Rip whimpered as her stomach roiled, threatening to spill over again. Several long minutes passed with the vampire choking and gasping, but she avoided having to vomit again. Eventually her stomach settled and the nausea subsided, though her head still ached terribly.
"Scheisse," she muttered, and used a shaky hand to wipe the scarlet filth from her chin.
Rip had gone off the pill before, but her body's reactions had never been this bad. Admittedly, this was the first time she had taken just one pill without restarting her regular medication cycle. It had been five days since she had killed Foquet, and in those five days Louise still refused to see her. The young noblewoman had all but sequestered herself inside her dorm room, refusing to leave except to attend classes. Rip supposed it was for the best, as she didn't want Louise to see her in such a state. Every morning, for five days straight, she woke up feeling like an atomic bomb had just exploded inside her skull. The worst had been the first morning after the effects of the pill wore off; she had been deathly ill all day, her body feeling as if it had been set on fire. Thankfully, as time passed, her bouts of sickness seemed to lessen as her body's chemical makeup balanced itself out.
She had been extremely tempted to take another pill during those bad mornings, just to make the pain stop. But worse than the pain was the knowledge that eventually, the dreams would return. And with them the memories. She would suffer a million such mornings as these, if only those damn memories would stay away. She didn't want to remember
Long strands of golden hair stained by the scarlet flow, spurting from the wound in the girl's skull.
The heavy weight of the Luger P08 in her hand, the smell of the powder wafting up from the smoking barrel, the shouts of anger and shock from the people around her.
The feel of her father's unshaven face against her ear as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"No!" Rip snarled as her fist smashed against the wall, the sheer force of the blow causing numerous cracks to form in the hard stone. She also felt several of the bones in her hand shatter from the impact, but she took no heed of the pain. In fact, she welcomed it. The pain focused her mind, brought it out of the haze of the past, and forced the unwanted memories bubbling up from the depths of her psyche back into the shadows where they belonged.
"My soul is dead," she murmured to herself. "My soul is DEAD!"
Three pills left.
0
Guiche de Gramont smiled as he took in the warmth of the sun overhead. It was such a nice, quiet day out. The birds were singing, the flowers were in bloom, and there was not a cloud in the sky. Such a perfect morning would only be better with a nice cup of tea and slice of cheese cake. The noble looked around the courtyard, glancing at the other students seated upon nearby tables before he spotted a maid with one of the food trolleys. He signaled for her and soon the young common woman was laying the tea and cake upon his table before bowing respectfully. Guiche was in such a good mood that he even gave the peasant a nod in thanks.
"Huh, you're in a fair mood," Malicorn stated as he watched his friend smiling to himself. Truth be told, he had been quite worried for the other boy's state of mind, as his friend's usual flair for life had been all but absent since he had lost the duel with Vallier's awful familiar.
Guiche gave the rotund boy a smile. "Oh, dear Malicorn. Why should I not be? The morning is beauteous, the food is plentiful, and we are both young and healthy. Life is good, my friend."
Malicorn raised an eyebrow before suddenly smiling upon a revelation. "Oho, I see. So Montmorency has forgiven you, has she?"
The blond boy merely sneered. "Hardly. The fair Lady Montmorency still does not deign to speak to me, despite my attempts at apologizing. Honestly, such childish behavior from a noblewoman." Guiche chuckled. "Then again, what can one expect from such immature little girls?"
"Huh?" Now Malicorn truly was confused. Guiche had never talked about Montmorency like that before. In fact, the fop had always been ready to defend the blond girl if anyone ever spoke badly of her. "Um, does this mean that you've decided to go after that first year? The brunette, what was her name?"
"Ah, the fair Katie," Guiche said with a smile. He then quickly shook his head. "But no, I am afraid such young, sophomoric girls do not strike my fancy any longer. Not when there are real women about."
"Real women?" Malicorn looked over at his owl, hoping that his familiar would have some idea as to what the blond boy was talking about. Unfortunately, the owl merely tilted its head, looking just as confused as its master.
"Yes, real women," Guiche nodded, sipping at his tea. "We are men, my dear Malicorn, not boys any longer. We must look past the current stable of giggling schoolgirls and to the fine selection of grown-up, cultivated older women. More mature, sophisticted women. The ones in full bloom! The ripe, fully... developed women." The noble coughed and discreetly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at some blood leaking from his nose.
"Oh, I get it," Malicorn stated, then frowned. "Please tell me you are seriously not thinking of going after one of the teachers. I mean, even you can't be that shameless..."
"Oh, hush!" Guiche chided, sounding slightly annoyed. "Honestly, Malicorn. I thought you better than to think me capable of such depravity. I mean, seriously, none of the female faculty is even that attractive. Except for that villainous traitor, Ms. Longueville, none of the learned professors or staff at this Academy are beautiful enough to hold my attention. Nay, only one fair maiden at this school possesses the elegance and refinement required to catch my eyes."
Malicorn's chubby face scrunched up as he fell into deep thought, trying his best to figure out just who the hell Guiche was talking about. Elegance and Refinement? Older woman? Who, if not one of the female professors, could fit such a description? His deductive reasonings were interrupted when he saw a familiar figure step out of the main building and onto the courtyard.
"Oh," he stated flatly. "Look. It's the Zero's ghastly familiar. Where do you think she's been hiding?"
Guiche felt his heart begin to thud heavily in his chest. He swiftly directed his wide eyes towards the woman in question, his breath hitching once he caught sight of her. The boy frowned, somewhat concerned to note that she looked paler than usual, though that in no way detracted from her simple yet remarkable beauty. She was dressed in her signature dark, shapeless attire and still carried that unsightly awful firearm; yet for all the rest of his days, Guiche would never forget how she looked on the night of the ball, resplendent in that dark blue gown. He knew that hidden under all that tattered and masculine garb was a woman of delicate charm, a true symbol of propriety and sophistication. Oh, how he longed to see her dressed in elegant dresses again, to hear her melodious voice once more.
Rip van Winkle. Ah, was it truly such a short a time ago that he thought the name to be so uncouth and unfeminine? Oh, what a fool he had been! Now, to his ears, they were the most sumptuous of phrases.
"I swear," Malicorn continued talking, "Valliere needs to control her plebian. Such a rabid dog needs to be held in a tighter leash."
"How dare you!" Guiche all but shouted, drawing some stares from nearby tables. The blond boy lowered his tone, though his voice still held a bit of anger. "Malicorn, I demand you take back such foul slander. Do not speak of the fair Lady van Winkle in such a manner."
"W-what?" the rotund boy looked at Guiche like he had just grown a second head. "Have you gone completely insane, Guiche? Why are you, of all people, defending Louise the Zero's nutso familiar? Didn't she totally humiliate you during your duel?"
"Indeed she did," the blond fop admitted. He then smiled. "And that just shows what a truly noble and talented individual she is."
"Noble? Guiche, come on, you're speaking of a lowly commoner."
"Oh please, Malicorn. Do tell me that you don't truly believe in Valliere's lies."
"Uh, what?" The rotund boy was now truly confused.
"Think about it for a moment. There is no way that the Lady van Winkle can be a mere commoner," Guiche slowly explained. "Her talent with the musket, her speed and dexterity while doing battle. Do you honestly believe that a simple plebian could defeat not only me in a duel, but manage to slay the mighty thief Foquet as well?" The blond shook his head and chuckled, taking a quick break from his explanation to sip at his tea. After downing a hearty gulp, he continued his tirade. "No, these are not the acts of a mere common woman. A filthy commoner would never have the courage to stand up to nobility. They are simple creatures like dogs or cattle, possessing no virtue that we nobles would hold dear. Nay, dear Malicorn, the woman who stands before us is a noblewoman of the truest form, of that fact I am certain. She is likely the unfortunate victim of circumstance, perhaps losing her noble title through no fault of her own. Yes! She, being the fair and proper damsel, was most likely being forced by her father to marry some oafish lord not worthy of her hand, and thus she fled from her vast estates, giving up her family name, in order to remain true to herself and find true love!" Guiche clasped his hands together as he closed his eyes, imagining in his mind the sight of the young Rip van Winkle, dressed in noble finery, dashing through the dark woods to escape her dire fate. "Oh such a romantic yet tragic tale!" Tears began to drip down his cheeks.
Whilst Guiche babbled on, Malicorn rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "You know, that actually makes sense. I mean, not the weird crap at the end, but the stuff about van Winkle being a noble. I think you may be on to something! There's no way a commoner could beat a noble. It's impossible. She has to be a noble herself, it's the only explanation that makes sense. Yeah, she's a disgraced noble forced to live as a mercenary to get by. Or maybe Zero herself is forcing her to keep quiet about her status, so that she won't get in trouble for kidnapping a fellow noblewoman!" Malicorn sounded quite excited, and with good reason. One of his favorite things was reading spy stories, and the best thing about spy stories were the conspiracy theories they presented. To think that there may be one such conspiracy right here at this very Academy! It was wild!
Meanwhile, Guiche was watching the dark form of Valliere's human familiar as she made her way through the courtyard and to her master's table. "I swear on my life, my dear Lady van Winkle," he whispered. "I will do everything in my power to save you from your dire fate."
If only the boy knew just how dire that fate actually was.
0
Rip cringed slightly as she stepped out of the main Academy building and onto the bright, sunlit courtyard outside. For the past several days she had all but sequestered herself in the dark bowels of the school, coming out only for a few hours in her attempts to speak with Louise. Her eyes stung from the light, and she felt her pale skin tingling from the heat of the sun. Despite her discomfort, the vampire forced herself to step into the daylight. She had sensed that Louise was out here this morning, and she was determined to speak to the girl. Although her memory from the day after taking the pill was hazy, she distinctly remembered killing Foquet right in front of Louise and her classmates. Not only did she kill the thief, but she did so in such a brutal and vicious a manner that it would have been quite traumatic for her naive young master to witness. Even worse, Rip probably made that irritating little brat Tabitha even more suspicious of her, and perhaps her red haired harlot friend suspected something as well.
Stupid, the vampire chided herself. If Rip had been in the right state of mind at the time, she would have done things much differently. Unfortunately, the blood lust had gotten the best of her. It would have been smarter to let the foolish thief go, then track her down later that evening to make the kill. With her rune-enhanced sixth sense and speed, it would have been a simple task to find Longueville wherever she would have run off to. Rip highly doubted that the traitor could have gotten very far, not with a determined vampire on her tail.
There were still three pills left. Rip was at a loss as to what to do. Taking the pill in the first place had proven foolish; they were designed to be taken in regular doses, and any alteration to the scheduled intake produced dire consequences. Her erratic, overtly violent behavior was one such consequence, the ensuing pain and illness the morning after being the other. There was no way she could possibly take the risk of ingesting the rest, could she?
Blond hair stained red.
Heavy pistol smoking in her hand.
Her father's pained voice in her ear.
The dark haired woman quickly shook her head, banishing the flash of images within her mind. She would not remember. She would suffer a million such mornings that she had endured today in order to keep from remembering. As for Tabitha and that fool Kirche, if they ever found out her secret, well... it would be a simple matter to kill them in their sleep. She would kill anyone who suspected, slaughter the entire damn school if she had to. Yes, all these problems, these side-effects to the pills, were easily handled for a monster like her.
Her soul was dead, after all.
Yes. She would continue taking the pills. But she had to ration them. She had to take them when the dreams just became too much to bear. Keep them for later. Keep them for when
"You're not fooling anyone, let alone me, little Jude. I can see RIGHT THROUGH YOU."
Terror seized her form upon the recollection of those dark words, spoken in a deep, clear voice, directly into her ear so long, long ago. She remembered the bite of the the barbed wire that bound her, the blackness of that horrible coffin, but most of all, the fierce, unholy hunger in the monster's scarlet eyes as it stared into her own. Rip forced her eyelids closed, and pushed with whatever mental strength she had left, forcing herself to forget, forcing herself to banish the terrifying presence from her mind.
It took a few minutes for the sniper to compose herself, to calm her mind enough so that her body would stop its fearful trembling. Once satisfied that she had found her bearing, the dark haired woman opened her eyes and looked around the courtyard. Thankfully, the pitiful nobles around her had been too busy with their pathetic little lives to even have noticed her much less her near psychotic break. Satisfied that no one had seen her weakness, the vampire quickly refocused her attention.
Enough with the brooding, Rip told herself. Find Louise.
The sniper adjusted her new glasses (the ones she had stolen from Foquet) before swiftly marching across the lawn in the direction she sensed Louise to be. The tall woman eventually found her summoner seated alone at a table, reading a small book and drinking a half empty cup of tea. The young girl looked up at her approach, and upon seeing her, quickly brought her gaze back down to the pages of the book in her hands.
Rip sighed. Why did her little master always wish make things so much more difficult than they had to be? Stifling her urge to just smack the child up the side of her head, the vampire coughed politely into a gloved hand before speaking. "Guten morgan, Louise. May I sit vith you?"
The pink haired girl gave a shrug of her slight shoulders, before replying in an unconcerned tone. "Do as you wish."
It surprised Rip, but the girl's casual brush-off actually hurt. The vampire bit her lip before seating herself in the chair opposite of the young noblewoman, clutching her musket in her arms like a child would clutch a stuffed animal for comfort. "Are you angry vith me, Louise?" Rip asked with an anxious tone.
"No," the girl said simply, still reading her book.
LIAR! Rip wanted to shout out, but she refrained. Instead, the vampire bowed her head and said in a conciliatory tone, "I'm sorry."
"Humph," Louise grunted, turning the page of her book.
"Damn it, Louise!" Rip finally growled out her frustration. "I know you're angry, but at least look at me, for God's sake."
"Look at you?" The pink haired girl asked softly. Her voice had a slight tremor to it, as if she was holding back an abundance of emotion and was only slightly successful at doing so. "I can't look at you, Rip, that's the problem. Every time I do, all I see is what you did to Ms. Longueville. The fear and pain in her eyes, the blood on your hands. Y-you murdered her, right in front of me..."
"I had to!" Rip whispered harshly, not wanting to draw the attention of the other students nearby. "Verdammt! She tried to kill you! I... I just... I could not forgive such a sing." Rip paused for a moment, shocked at her own words. They were a revelation even to her ears. The vampire suddenly realized that she had been angry at Foquet, incredibly angry, and not just for the usual reasons. True, the woman was a traitor, and she had been under the pill's violent effects. But Rip now understood that the true reason for her fury, the real reason why she had killed the woman, was that the thief had put Louise's life in danger.
My soul is dead.
The vampire frowned, her eyes looking down at her left hand. Could it be the familiar runes? Were they affecting her behavior in some way? They had to be, why else would she be feeling this way? Or was it because Louise reminded her of
Blond hair stained red.
The vampire choked down a sob, felt a sting in her eyes. Not now. Not now.
Louise, for her part, felt utterly confused at her familiar's words. She had been all set to hate the woman, as she had frightened her terribly when she had so cruelly and coldly murdered another human being in front of her. Rip had killed in cold blood, but knowing the reason as to why she had done so, that it had been for her sake, made Louise feel both ashamed and gratified at the same time. She was ashamed because a life had been taken needlessly; yet she was grateful because no one had ever shown her such loyalty before. The young girl turned away from her familiar, her eyes and cheeks now wet with tears. What the hell was wrong with her?
Both master and familiar sat there at the table in total silence. All around them the other students of the Academy laughed and chatted with their friends, enjoying the bright, sunlit morning. Butterflies and humming birds danced about in the air, and a cool, soothing breeze blew through the flowers, bringing their sweet fragrance to everyone there. Eventually, Louise wiped at her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her uniform. Once satisfied that they were dry, she turned her eyes back to her familiar and spoke.
"No more killing."
Rip blinked, Louise's voice snapping her out of her hazy thoughts. "V-vat?"
"No more killing," the young Valliere repeated, her tone brokering no argument. "If you are to remain my familiar, there shall be no more killing, of anyone, unless I give my permission. Is that clear?"
"Yes, uv course, anything you say!" Rip lied.
"Give me your word."
The dark haired woman swallowed, licking her dry lips before speaking. "I swear, as an officer of Millenium, zat I vill not kill anyone unless my master, Louise Valliere, tells me to." More lies.
"Good," Louis said simply. Silence descended upon both master and familiar once more, but this time it was Rip who broke it.
"I truly am sorry, Louise," she said.
"Somehow, I doubt that," muttered the young student as she remembered the older woman's almost sadistic glee as she killed Ms. Longueville.
"No, I didn't mean zat I vas sorry for killing," her familiar told her, blue eyes sharp behind the stolen spectacles. "Foquet vas a traitor, and tried to kill you. She deserved her fate." Rip's voice softened as she continued. "What I meant vas that I was sorry zat you had to see vat I did. I did not mean to frighten you, I vas just not thinking straight at ze time."
Louise nodded. Truth be told, she had already decided to forgive her familiar. Yet deciding to do something and doing it for real were two very different things. She tried to work up the nerve to do so, but she just could not find the courage to face up to her familiar, not after the horror that she saw. Perhaps this conversation would help her see the older woman as something other than a monster. Louise hoped this would be the case, anyway.
"A-are you... still angry vith me?" Rip asked, looking very much like a kicked puppy at the moment.
Louise forced herself, with much difficulty, to smile. "No, no. Of course not. Not anymore." This time it was the master who had lied.