𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜'𝙨 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 // scaramouche x oc

Chapter 12 - The Intoxicating Scent of Blood

Scaramouche put down his glass of wine with a clang, getting up on his feet.

Instantly, Erik and I placed our silverware to the right of our plates, signifying that we were finished.

I waited for everyone to stand before I rose from my chair, trailing obediently behind Scaramouche.

"Lady Columbina, you are truly beautiful. It's a shame that you cannot marry, as a Harbinger." Erik suddenly complimented.

I turned red, flustered.

Is he attempting to suggest . . . ?

"Why, you are quite handsome yourself, Sir Erik."

He halted and gestured for us to step back, bending down to knock on the stone flooring. The tiles slid open with a loud creak, revealing a large stone staircase that appeared to have no end.

Scaramouche took my elbow before Erik could even think of lighting a lamp, and, in an instant, we were all inside the cellar.

The spilled wine had a cloying aroma that blinded the senses and caused me slight vertigo. Several barrels were upright, others rolling on the floor, and the wooden shelves were damaged beyond repair. Somehow, the atmosphere was heavy and unstable, as if smoke was slowly filling up the room.

"Why hasn't this been cleaned up?" Scaramouche inquired, crushing green-tinted shards of smashed wine bottles under his feet. "Some useful maids you got there, little lord."

I defended Erik. "You misunderstand, Lord Scaramouche. This break-in was quite recent." Kneeling down gently, I pressed my palm to the ground, picking up every trace of elemental energy I could sense. "This is indeed Abyssal magic, but the concentration is strong."

"Mind explaining why there's mana all over this place?" Scaramouche snapped.

Erik went pale as a will o' the wisp.

"If you'll excuse me, Lord Scaramouche, what is this 'mana' you speak of?" I inquired.

Scaramouche glared at me, exasperated.

"Mana is the wrath of slain gods. The Fatui makes Delusions from it, but if you're too weak to use one of those, like our little lord here, you can get mana injected into your body."

Such advanced technology . . . no wonder Snezhnaya is so powerful.

"But the Abyss feeds on mana, you know that all too well, little lord," he continued, flicking dust bunnies off his shoulder. "Why are you still standing there? Answer my question."

Unable to refuse, Erik admitted, "The mana is a security measure to keep out monsters and the like, Your Grace, but--"

Prohibiting Scaramouche from retaliating, I took Erik's hand in both of mine.

"Lord Scaramouche, this is a matter for another mission," I declared confidently. "Sir Erik, do you perchance know of a location nearby that bears an ideal ambience for the festering of Abyssal energy?"

"Come to think of it, there is. By the sea, there are caverns embedded into the shoreline, and the men who once mined for ores there have long passed," Erik explained, sighing in relief. "But before you leave, Lady Columbina, may I have a word with you?"

My intuition seldom failed me, as I had expected.

Smiling, I nodded. "It would be an honor. My lord, please wait a moment."

Gallant as always, Erik kindly escorted me to another room in the cellar, separated by thick velvet drapes embellished with gold tassels.

"Lady Columbina, my deepest gratitude, for rescuing me there. Please forgive me for troubling you, my lady," he thanked me, playing with the filigree on his coat.

"I shan't forgive you, for you have done nothing wrong, Sir Erik," I assured him, strangely uneasy.

Erik suddenly pulled me towards him, forcing his spit down my throat as his lips met mine with unrivaled passion.

I gagged on the sweetness of his tongue, yet he showed no sign of stopping, snickering into another kiss and leaving me with the sick feeling that I was going to retch.

"A beauty like yours shouldn't be put to waste on the battlefield. Darling, marry me, I'll treat you better . . ."

That was when I smelled it.

The intoxicating scent of blood.

His grip abruptly loosened, and I gasped for air, choking.

A long, bleeding gash ran down Erik's arm, dripping onto his polished boots and leaving dark scarlet stains as he hunched over in pain.

And at my side was Scaramouche, his expression ever cold and murderous, like lightning. For a moment, I could've sworn I saw a flame in his narrow indigo eyes.

"Touch her again, you f*cking bastard, and I'm giving you a one-way ticket to hell."