Fangs of a Butterfly

CHAPTER 4

I was back in my tower for the next few days. Uriel, I heard from Sabine, was working on sketching down the castle exterior and rooms. The girls hadn't seen much of the researchers, either, as they only recorded our lifestyle and behaviors as of now.

They were taking their time.

A few days later, Agnes came to my room.

"Today the young boy, Uriel, will begin to sketch you. Don't forget." A grin spread on her face. "Be kind."

"Don't repeat yourself unnecessarily," I grimaced. "Your voice is like a crow's."

Her smile didn't even disappear. She wasn't going to care how mean I was to her as long as she could use me. Or think she could.

"I have to say you made a good choice," she continued on nevertheless. "He's beautiful, too. Such beautiful skin, and so rosy and full of life too."

Where? He had on a look that said he wanted to die.

Either way, after breakfast, there was a knock at my tower door.

"Come on in," I yawned, still sprawled out on my bed. I woke up from a short nap. In my tower, I rarely did anything but sleep. Sometimes I read a bit, but that bored me. In fact, I did nothing at all, but I would never tell anyone. I had my kids lined up about how I wrote and read to sound like an intellect.

The doors creaked, and then he came in, a heavy looking satchel slung over his shoulder. It was of brown leather, worn out and scuffed, and a corner of a sketchbook stuck out from under the flap.

"It's Uriel, I'm here to draw you today."

He wouldn't look at me in the eyes, and simply placed his bag down on the floor, and then pulled up a chair.

I pushed myself up. I was still in my nightgown, a sheer white chemise made of muslin, with ruffles around the neck and at the edge of the sleeves. My feet was bare too, and I rolled up the hem of the skirt as I sat up. He deserved a treat, a view my of beauty.

I smiled. "Tell me, how will you take me out?" I asked.

"After Agnes is dead, what'll there be holding you back?"

"Then I'll be doing the job myself!" I growled. "I want to go to the lands of humans! I want to see things."

I stood up, stepping onto the cold stone floor with my bare feet. I held out my arms.

"I want to get rid of this dark, rainy, awful life!"

"The world outside isn't much better," he said without looking at me. I walked over to him. He had already drew a figure, not of me, but Yves was right. It was horrendous.

"A body doesn't look like that, that's a skeleton," I said.

"I'm not good at drawing people—or humans. I only managed to get here by lying to the Doctor that I was interested."

"Is it for revenge?" I asked. "For your father?"

"I don't know," he said, turning up to look at me. "How does it feel to be killed?"

"I can kill you right now," I whispered. "Just one bite into your neck. No one survives. No one turns into a vampire. That's a legend people tell themselves to be able to sleep at nights. You'll never live. One puncture and your veins are pierced, and it'll never, ever heal. Only vampires heal from bites."