Of Mine Enemy

chapter eleven

Saiorse expected confrontation - but none as utterly stiff as this. Across from her Isabella sat, cross-legged, her daunting silver eyes tearing apart every inch of the brunette's composure. As a different breed of vampire, Saiorse was well aware of Isabella's strengths over her. The woman was far faster - able to calculate her precision at an impeccable rate that Saiorse admired. Her kind were far more apt to live solitary lives, as they did not feed off of blood: but the happiness and liveliness of those around them. Saiorse hadn't a qualm with Isabella or her people, but she found it unnecessarily risky to gather others not of her kind in such a crowded space. Saiorse hoped for their sake they had only united to destroy the dragon. Though, as they chatted over untouched glasses of the finest wine Saiorse had crossed for years, she discovered quickly that Isabella was not fond of allowing her control to slip.

Long, filed nails capable of ripping through the toughest of flesh danced rhythmically over the surface of a mahogany table that did not match a single piece of furniture in Isabella's quarters. She'd gutted a large opening in the tunnels, sliding whatever she pleased down the corridors to decorate her temporary home. Paintings Saiorse figured she didn't even like hovered over their heads, along with a rather grotesque stuffed-dog. The rugs at their feet - one a tanned, plaid atrocity, the other a previously seafoam, now grey - looked as if they hadn't been shaken for weeks. Saiorse couldn't imagine the redhead carting two rugs up the twisting stairs just to rid something so mundane of the dirt that coated it. She glanced to Isabella's book case. There were no books, only piles of parchment scribbled upon.

Worldless, the extremely tall woman stood from her place, marching behind them to draw a cabinet free of a wobbly vanity. Saiorse kept her eyes trained on the desk before her, mouth suddenly feeling extraordinarily dry. Isabella's movements were laced with her agitation. Something waited below her composure; Saiorse could sense the pressure of a rising storm.She hid her hands beneath the desk. At this rate, she would not have any skin left on the pads of her palms.

Isabella, stiff and deliberate, walked back to the side of the desk, flopping the drawer onto the tabletop with a thunderous boom, making Saiorse jump, the back of her head sparking with chilly numbness. She met her gaze, her tongue pressing to the inside of her cheek as Isabella waved at the drawers filled with overflowing papers. Saiorse sank a fang into her lip, drawing forth a piece of paper.

It was a news report, telling the tale of James LeRoy's triumph over the beasts that hid within the dark. Cold fury wandered over her chest as she flipped through the papers, until she staggered upon a document of information, written undoubtedly in Isabella's script. Saiorse read a few words, halting after a couple of sentences - she needn't read any further.

Alexander LeRoy, dark hair, brown eyes. Son of James LeRoy *slayer of Saiorse Addinell. Brief moments between seven and eight P.M, unsupervised. Improper time allotment for safe measures of capture.

Saiorse's eyes shut, her shoulders growing limp. She dare not look the woman in the eyes - her response was crucial. She'd stepped into the heart of her den and spun a lie to her entire clan, including Isabella. Saiorse parted her lips with a hot sigh, laying the papers calmly back where they came from. The desk creaked when Isabella's hands curved around the ledge.

"How dare you bring the enemy into my home?" Isabella demanded, voice cool, icy - it was worse than heated anger. Body cold and eyes struggling to meet her gaze, Saiorse shook her head only once. Isabella revealed her fangs, far sharper and longer than her own. "You lie to me, in front of my clan no less? What is he doing in your company, Ambassador? Have you no pride for your species - or yourself, for that matter?" On and on her scrutiny spit from her lips, stinging Saiorse's chest with every word.

"He is not the ene-" Saiorse sighed loudly, pinching her face as she growled with frustration, not at Isabella, but at herself. "I only told you his name was Johnathan to protect my assets." She looked up then, meeting Isabella's eyes without fear. "If I do not keep Alexander with me I will never find James. The moment James is dead I will be rid of the pompous bastard. I should have killed him long ago."