Winged Dagger

Darkness In The Light

"You look like death," said Kiyomi, greeting me in the morning.

"Do I?" I asked, staring at the coffee machine for a second before pouring myself another cup of coffee.

"You'll give yourself caffeine poisoning!" said Kiyomi, pulling the plug on the machine.

I stared at the pulled plug before taking a sip of coffee. "Unlikely."

"Very likely at this rate." We both turned to see Leonardo walk up to us. He leaned forward before smiling. "Cara mia, is something wrong?"

"I appear to be lacking sleep."

"Why?" I considered the question, and then launched into a description of the eyes I saw at my window. Leonardo frowned. "Interesting. I haven't heard of someone daring to just walk in through the mansion gates."

"To be fair, I don't think it's public knowledge that there's a mansion full of vampires out there somewhere."

"They'd probably come with pitchforks and torches," said Kiyomi, smiling with amusement as I broke into laughter halfway through my yawn.

"Mina, who don't you take the day off?" asked Sebastian, who was rearranging items the cabinet. "Kiyomi and I will take care of things today."

"Thank you," I said, heading back to my room. Closing the door, a glint at the table brought my eyes to it, leaving my blood running cold in my veins.

A knife lay on the table. A silver dagger, to be more precise, an owl carved on its hilt. The very same dagger that I recall carrying everywhere with me, in a time long lost and forgotten.

I picked it up, wondering how it had come to be here. Nothing else was out of place in my room, but the window had been thrown open. How strange, when I had not opened it at all. The thought of a nameless, faceless stranger entering my room did nothing to calm my nerves.

I debated with myself, wondering who to confide in. Picking up the dagger, I made my way down the halls, stopping when steel touched my neck. Whoever was holding a sword at my throat was behind me, out of view.

"Who are you, and why do you carry a knife down the halls?" It was a voice I didn't recognize.

"Who are you, and why do you point a sword at my throat?" I asked rather recklessly, I realized much later.

"Jean!" called Napoleon as he raced across the corridor. "She's a guest!"

I relaxed as I felt the sword move away, and then turned around to get a good look at my assailant. He wore an eyepatch, which was in turn covered with his bangs.

"I sincerely apologize."

"No matter, Sir Jean d'Arc," I said, nodding to his sword.

"Where did you get that?" asked Napoleon, nodding to the weapon in my own hand.

"Found it in my room. I was actually hoping to speak to Comte."

"Comte's gone out and won't be returning for another week or so," said Arthur, sauntering up behind Jean. "Meanwhile, feel free to ask me."

I sighed and twirled the blade in my hands. "I see."

"Planning to skewer someone?" Arthur gestured to the dagger.

"Not really. Goodbye," I said, heading back to my room, only to be stopped by Arthur. His face was serious, rather than the usual playful smile I had come to associate him with.

"That knife... Does it have a pair?"

"How would you know?" I asked, raising the dagger up to see what he had spotted.

"The owl has only one wing raised."

"So you assume the pair would have the other one raised," I said, nodding in understanding.

"Correct."

"Not bad. Yep, this knife has a pair," I said, as my brother's face flashed in my mind for a brief second. I wonder, would he be searching for me?

"You seem rather used to handling knives," he said as I twirled it again.

"Yes, I used to cook, you see."

"No, it's more than that. You twirl it with the ease of an assassin."

I blinked. "What?"

"So someone taught you all this," he said, apparently taking interest in my reaction. He leaned against the wall, as I shook my head and made to head into my room. He blocked the door.

"I'm not playing your games, Arthur."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" Deciding I wouldn't be getting into my room with him around, I started down the hall, walking straight into the garden, Arthur still trailing after me. "Don't you have work to do?"

"A writer's schedule is flexible," he said, brushing a leaf off my hair.

"You mean you're goofing off."

"The term is researching," he said, looking at the path we were taking.

I tucked the dagger into a hidden pocket in my skirt. Next thing I knew, we were both on the streets, heading down into the city. The sun had risen fully, bathing the place white. "Where are we even going?"

Arthur stepped beside me. "You haven't left the mansion yet, I believe. Would you like me to show you around?"

"Steer clear of the red-light district, please."

Arthur laughed the good-natured laugh of a man who had been planning to take me there as a joke. He took me down into the city, pointing out shops, libraries, book stores, a little gathering that he called "Napoleon's school," and also the job of every person we came across.

"Do you know everyone in this city?" I asked, slightly amused as he gestured discreetly to a man and told me he was a teacher.

"Not really," he said, his eyes still on the man. "I have never been acquainted with him, for instance. But it's not hard to tell what people do for a living. It shows in the way they talk, the way they walk..." His gaze landed on a crowd of people down the street, his smile quickly fading. I followed his line of sight to see women standing with their hands over their mouths, staring at a scene in horror, children crying and clinging to their mother's skirts.

"Something's happened," I murmured. Arthur and I shared a look as we headed to the crowd. Making our way through them, all I caught was a glimpse of a body, red all over. My brother's face flashed in my head, of him lying on the ground. A hand covered my eyes, and the image faded.

"Hey!"

"Don't look." He sounded almost distressed. Arthur turned me around and put a hand on my shoulders, so that I was facing his shirt instead of the streets. Holding onto him, I noticed his face was set into a grimace as he surveyed the scene in front of him. "Don't look. You shouldn't see this."

"What happened here?"

"A murder."

"How?" I asked, pretty sure the genius author would know.

He didn't look away from the street as he answered. "Stabbed to death and left to die. Probably somewhere at dawn."

"Arthur," said another quiet voice, coming up to stand besides us both. I watched a little girl bury her face into her mother's skirt, her mother lifting her up and taking her away.

"Theo," acknowledged Arthur.

Theo gave me a nod to show that he saw me, before looking at the streets. "Another one."

"Another?" I asked, wanting more information.

"Let's talk at the mansion," said Arthur, steering me away.

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