Three retched fools with a leather sack, Alabaster thought as they sank to their knees before him.The look of them did not encourage him. I suppose there is always a chance.
"Off your knees," he told the would-to-be-rich men, "Show me what you've brought me."
They rose, three ugly men, and ragged. One had a boil on his neck, and none had washed in half a year.The prospect of such people to have killed a handsome, holy angel amused him.I could seat them next to Alienor at feasts.When the chief fool undid the drawstring on the sack and plunged a hand insid, the smell of decay filled his audience chamber like some rank rose.The head he pulled out was grey-green and crawling with maggots. It smells like Eruda. His cupbearer gasped.
The vampire considered his prize, unflinching as they brought the body forth. "You've killed the wrong angel," he said at last, grudging every word.
"We never did," one of the fools dared to say."This got to be him, my Lord. An angel, see. He's rotted some, is all."
"He has also grown a new wing," Alabaster observed."A rather majestic one at that, I dare say. Jaxin lost his to the Faerie Queen during her stay."
The three fools exchanged a look. "No one told us,"said the one with head in hand."This one came as bold as you please, some pumpuous angel, so we thought..."
"He said he wasn't him," the one with the boild added," And you said he was lying."That was directed at the third man.
The vampire was angry to think he had kept his slave waiting for this mummer's farce. "You have wasted my time and slain the wrong creature. I should have your own heads off." But if he did, the next man would hesitate and let the boy slip his net. He would pile dead angels ten feet high before he let that happen. "Remove yourselves from my sight."
"Aye, my Lord," said the boil."We beg your pardons."
"Do you want the head?" asked the man who held it.
"Give it to my servant. No, in the sack, you lackwit. Yes, boy, see them out."
The cupbearer removed the head and the other boy the headsmen.
"Someone will find the angel, never fear." Atreyu assured him. "And when they do, we'll kill him good."
Will you?
"I have informers sniffing after the angel everywhere,Al." She had garbed herself in something very like a priestess' robes, but white instead of grey, immaculate. Whorls of gold decorated her breast, sleeves, and stiff high collar, and a golden sash was tied around her waist."Wherever he might run, my friends will find him."
"You assume he left the Vaith. He could be hiding in Ashmark for all we know, praying in the church and ringing the bells to produce that awful din." Alabaster handed his cup to the lad. "Have you made the preparations I asked of you?"
"I have, my Lord. I am sorry that it took so log. Such a lively girl. It took the leeches many hours to feed on her properly."
"No doubt."
A shadow Knight was always posted outside her 'chambers' as he liked to call her cell. Too much luxury would blur her judgement. When he entered, her wrists were held above her head by an iron chain. The metal had dug into her flesh, leaving bloody trails on her skin and her feet were just a few inches above the ground, enough to deny her body rest.
"Good day to you, my love." he greeted her cheerfully. Alabaster slid a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face up. When the girl didn't answer, his hand smacked her face, producing a loud thump. "Such bad manners," Alabaster observed thoughtfully, before seating himself right on her opposite, his face resting in his palm.
"Now," he began,"We shall play a game. I will say one word and you will tell me the one thing that pops up inside your pretty little head. How does that sound, my sweet?"
Alienor merely grunted in response.
"Death," he stated.
"Salvation." Alienor whispered in return.
"Prophecy."
"Cage."
"God," he went on.
"You."
Alabaster blinked and stared at her unflinching. "What makes you say I'm a God?"
A smile she soon regretted bloomed on her lips, just to vanish again when she felt the pain from her blood-cracked skin. "I never said you were one. You believe you are. And you will die as one."
He stroked a lock of her long, tangled hair. "And I suppose you would be the one to kill me, little one. Who do you think you are, then? A heroine? A deity?"
"You have created an image, the image of a leader. The crowds need not bury a mortal man. Your sins...your known sins will be tiny, but they will be enough for them to tear you apart. Nobody cries of the Gods that die by his hand, my Lord. Gods are born by men, as they are killed by them. With joy they dig his shallow grave, anticipating pains to come. They watch the wriggling dance of death, and laugh...light-hearted, at death's fun.
Anyone can be killed, my Lord."
"Give me one good reason I should not carve your eyes out, right at this moment, little one." He said, still smiling a frozen smile.
"You value beauty for it can deceive. You mean to use me, and for that, you need my eyes."
"We're done for now." he finished. As he took his leave, he laid an almost tender kiss on her lips before he slashed thrice at the flesh of her collarbone. Alabaster fumbled inside his coat for some moments to produce a clear vial, filled with crimson liquid. "Manage to feed, and I shall reward you. If it remains there the next time I visit you, you will undergo more torture."
As the vampire lord entered the dark cell again, hours later, he felt something cracking beneath his step. The vial had been broken into pieces and her lips were smeared with its contents.