VAESEN - The Ruins of the World

Chapter 16 - Two Predators

"You gave it to him," he finally murmured, and his blue eyes settled on her as if he wanted to read the truth and the story from her dead, cold features like black letters on white parchment.

But... there was nothing. The porcelain mask on her face was impenetrable, and the truth behind it was hidden like an iron lock, a precious treasure.

Suddenly a slight, sad smile appeared on his lips, which irritated Myreille more than she wanted to admit. But quickly enough, she regained her composure and snorted at his remark.

"Yes," she replied. It was a simple answer. At the same time, it was only a tiny fragment of a larger whole, a story that went far beyond a few porcelain masks.

Her eyes followed his movement as the cat lifted his fingers but did not remove his mask.

"I knew him... Kaye..." he revealed, lowering his hand again. "But I never saw you with him. I never heard of you. So I won't give you anything until I know what that means."

The vampire curled her black lipsticked lips in disapproval. Her expression softened for a fraction of a second - only to freeze to the ice again shortly afterward, like a sheet of ice under an icy winter breeze.

The same winter storm swept over the face of the Cait-Sith in front of her. It made the blue glaciers behind the mask appear darker than before, almost as if the tiny ray of sunlight caught in them had disappeared. He bared his teeth in a gnashing sound, and as a predatory cat, he would undoubtedly have laid back his ears and bared his teeth. He would have extended his claws and ruffled his fur.

"How did you know my brother?"

Myreille perceived his hostile attitude, and though she did not show it so openly, she mirrored it by lowering her hand and shifting her position just a touch.

The air around them seemed to crackle as she dropped several degrees.

Her slender arms sank to the sides of her body, and her fingers brushed the curve of her hips. Her fingertips twitched. The long fingernails were deadlier than many a dagger blade ... She wasn't a Cait-Sith and didn't need to transform first. She was always armed, always ready to fight.

And this man was a liar and a murderer.

They had caught him with the satyr, and now he was here. It would be best to put him out of action and interrogate him under other circumstances more favorable to her.

So why... was she hesitating? Again?

What was holding her back, like an invisible thread tugging at her?

Why was she going against her nature, against her imprint?

She felt like a vessel into which too much water had entered from somewhere and whose contents were spilling over the edge. It was dangerous... And impossible. The last person who had triggered this in her was Kaye. And only him.

Myreille took a deep breath and tried to suppress the hot glow inside her. She had to concentrate.

"Kaye didn't have a brother," she hissed, baring her teeth for a moment, "he always came and went alone."

That cat annoyed her like no one had in years. Far too easily, as if his every word penetrated right under her skin instead of shattering against the armor of decades of experience.

Perhaps it had been the brief moment of hope that had flared within her, making the cold void left by Kaye's death even more apparent.

Her delicate nose wrinkled, and she suddenly felt the mask's weight more clearly on her face.

A part of her was gone ... and would never return.

The vampiress tried to take a deep breath, straightened up a little, and tilted her head slightly before slowly taking a step closer. His body was so hot, no doubt plagued by fever, that she could feel the heat he radiated as she stood close to him and fixed her gaze on his face.

"Kaye was one of my regular customers," she murmured, and a forced, emotionless smile played around her lips but didn't reach her eyes.

There, silver flecks shimmered between the cold whites, running through them like rivers of mercury, making them more vivid because they couldn't hide the sparkle. A treasure covered in cold snow: emotions.

Feelings that she was not allowed to have, simply because she was what she was: undead. And all masters promised their offspring liberation from all human vices, which they left behind in a cold grave in the ground. True freedom, far from remorse. But there it was: a glimmer of mystery and pain that moved her lips as she continued:

"And one thing I promise you: I will tear anyone who has anything to do with his death into pieces with my own hands. Even you, cat..."