Chapter Forty: Attempt on her Life
Aralyn returned the next day, delving into her work and not speaking much besides the short replies to any question that was asked of her. Her sadness brought a gloomy aura to the entire building, even dampening Yuffie's spirits. Soon the silence was so deep that it was nearly a racket to run the water faucet.
After a half hour, Tifa slowly moved behind Aralyn and wrapped her arms around her shoulders in an understanding embrace. "Aralyn," she said soothingly. "Are you going to be all right?"
"Yeah I just…" she coldly tried to shrug off the embrace but Tifa wouldn't let go. "Do you need the day off?"
"No. It's better when I'm not sitting and thinking about…at least here I'm occupied."
"All right," Tifa said. "But if you need someone to talk to, I'll listen, okay?"
Aralyn turned her gaze to Tifa, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Thanks. That means a lot."
Seizing the lapse in Aralyn's depression, Yuffie sprang to her side. "You know what you need? An adventure! Don't tell anyone but," here she lowered her voice to a whisper, her eyes glinting with glee of her scheme, "I know where Vincent hides his materia!"
Aralyn turned her gaze to the silent gunman, wondering if he had managed to hear. "No thanks, Yuffie. I'll stick with the dishwashing."
"Aw…maybe Denzel will be up for it," she murmured as she walked away.
Aralyn just shook her head as she once again immersed her hands in the warm, soapy water.
For a moment the silence returned, until Aralyn let out a sharp gasp. When she pulled her hand from the water, a streak of red ran the length of her finger.
Vincent was at her side before anyone could blink. Aralyn jumped back, startled by how unnaturally fast he had come. "Just got caught on a knife or something…no big deal." She smiled through her grimace as she tried to cover it with her hand; it stung fiercely.
Tifa approached and gently nudged Vincent to the side. "It looks worse than it is, but you can't blame Vincent. He's an ex-Turk, remember, and you have to believe they taught him something about reacting quickly."
"Or maybe his inner vampire was reacting to the blood…" Yuffie was smart enough to stop there. She smiled nervously under his glare and silently slinked away.
Tifa bandaged the wound and went back to the front of the building to attend to a customer.
"Vincent could I ask you—" Aralyn began, but she was interrupted by Tifa.
"Aralyn, Verian's here to see you."
Vincent strode forward, only stopped when Aralyn gripped his cloak. "Give the man half a minute," she whispered. "I'm not in the mood to fight today."
Vincent scowled deeply but moved from the doorway to let her pass.
Verian smiled when he saw her. "Hey! Glad to see you're well."
Aralyn did not answer to this.
"I just dropped by to say hello, but it's a bit chilly outside. Mind if I stay a moment?"
"I suppose not," she said timidly, backing up to let Tifa take his order. He slid into a seat.
"What do you recommend, Aralyn?" he asked after scanning the menu.
"Tifa makes a wonderful pie…"
"Nah, too heavy. I just want something light, how about a drink?"
"I can whip up a shake or something but…"
"Wonderful! I'll take two helpings."
Verian remained casual even under Vincent's heavy gaze. When Aralyn returned, Verian grabbed her hand before she could retreat back to the kitchen. "I can't eat two helpings myself, Aralyn."
Eyeing him suspiciously, she reluctantly sat. He pulled a separate wine glass engraved with elaborate silver etchings from his coat and began to spoon copious amounts of the shake into it.
"Verian this is absurd! You can't honestly think…!"
"Absurd? Aralyn, just this once. I'm sorry if I've caused you pain." Idly he began to swirl her drink around with the spoon.
"This doesn't change anything! I'm not going to marry you!"
"I understand, Aralyn. Drink, it's on me." He handed her the glass.
Still meeting his gaze, she pressed the glass to her lips and sipped the drink, then set it down. "I'm really not hungry right now, Verian."
"Oh, come on, wasting all that is such a shame…"
Vincent leapt forward in an instant, registering as nothing more than a streak of crimson in Aralyn's view. She was knocked aside by a blow that had not been meant to harm her, but to push her away from the danger. When she looked up from the ground where she had been thrown flat, Verian was held by his neck, his feet dangling several inches above the ground, Cerberus pressed firmly against his temple.
"Explain yourself," Vincent hissed. Aralyn had seen him infuriated before, but never like this. His hand, normally so steady and sure, was shaking with fury, and his voice was quiet and deadly.
"Vincent, what is going on?" Tifa asked.
Vincent thrust his fingers into Verian's coat pocket, briefly fishing around and pulling out a bag of what appeared to be finely ground salt. He then gestured to Aralyn's glass. The shake he had spooned into it was tinted a slightly darker color.
"What is this? And why was Aralyn's glass laced with it? Is that why you were so eager for her to consume it all?"