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Chapter Five – Mateo
It wasn’t that he hated Miguel. Or even his mother and father.
More so, he hated that he was an insatiable beast. With charming good looks. The moon would be full soon, visible there in Lisbon. Mateo picked a bar brimming with unbeknownst humans, his partner wide eyed at him. He’d been newly turned, so it would end up being a blood fest.
Mateo liked the idea of this, it aroused him. He was watching his waitress – no older than twenty-five twist through her customers, constantly eyeing him and looking down, grinning.
It’s a shame she didn’t know what he had planned. To seduce her, to have his way.
To feast.
His friend was getting antsy, clearly he was tipsy. And as far as them fitting in…Mateo was sunburned from being homeless. He smelled as though he hadn’t bathed recently. His hair was oily, his face with dirt patches. And here was a young woman, flirting with him. The only thing grand about him were his replacement fingers – made of white gold and chrome. They were adorned with beautiful filigree and font of a language no one knew.
Mateo felt confident until he saw The Stretch of Concord walk through the doors, casting their shadow on the polished granite floor. With their crisp white uniforms, as if their stances weren’t boastful enough. The left pockets were lined with navy blue, as the flap stated their positions, neatly scrolled in cursive. On the right were golden badges of honor. The collar, lapels and pockets were outlined with navy as well. The crowd hushed slowly as the top wolf, the only one wearing a hat, strolled through the tavern leading his betas.
Leo Ramos, the alpha, pulled out his chair, smiling as it scooted and stirred the already tense moment between he, the stranger, and the tavern’s familiars. This did not include Mateo, but at least he hadn’t made a grand entrance.
Leo was average height, but he had a stocky build. He kept his dark and curly hair in a ponytail, and always shaved his face. Mateo didn’t know exactly how old Leo Ramos was, he just knew he didn’t like seeing him.
“Lord Cervantez, good to see you on a full moon,” Leo started, sitting down and eyeing the grim and contempt riddled upon Mateo.
Mateo’s hands slammed down on the table as he stood aggressively to leave, he wanted no part in this conversation. Either he had a request or he came to gloat. Mateo just wanted to drink and fuck.
“Sit, you’re still a part of this order. As is your brother, your father. And god rest, your mother too.”
Slowly sitting, Mateo glared long and hard at Leo, then motioned for a drink.
“Two please,” Leo said quickly, eyeing Mateo with the same intensity.
“Go find Miguel then,” Mateo muttered, knowing Leo would end up paying for his drinks and controlling the conversation.
“Haven’t you heard? The master is dutifully married to a beautiful half bred. He’s been pretty occupied, according to a spy of mine. We rustled his feathers a bit before leaving…before the monsoon…”
Mateo grimaced, he and Miguel hated rain. More because you could smell a dog quicker, and that anytime it rained, it was a reminder of how he murdered his mother.
For nothing.
Mateo had a scar on the right side of his face leaving him blind in that eye, and he was missing two fingers to prove that point. He pushed Miguel too far, this time. He figured Miguel would succumb, surrendering the estate and its benefits. But he was stronger than he realized, faster.
The only thing Mateo had going for him was the fear he knew Miguel still bottled up at night – newly wed or not.
Their drinks came, as Mateo watched Leo converse with one of his soldiers. Then he looked at Mateo, attempting to toast. He hesitated, hoping this wouldn’t be his last shot. It’s when he realized it was still early. He had a couple of hours before the sun would set and the moon would rise. He then hated Leo for existing at this moment, it meant they had been watching him too.
When their glasses clinked, Mateo delivered his liquid refuge back, hearing the familiar sound of silver encased iron. Handcuffs specifically made for werewolves like him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to run and leave this town. But he knew it was probably surrounded, and he began to question if Miguel had set this up.
“If you go willingly, I have a paying job for you,” Leo said, interrupting his thoughts.
“And if I don’t go willingly?”
“A job, then.”
Mateo cursed to himself, hateful toward Leo. He wanted to rub his face clear of his perspiration. The waitress eyed him nervously…Mateo wanted her. He could hear her moans echoing in the background, as she pleaded with him, pleasurably of course.
Then Mateo hated himself, more than anything. Because he was wide open at this moment, The Guild using arrows…and he an empty field. He sighed, presenting his wrists for cuffing. The Guild would pay handsomely. The old wolf just wasn’t sure as to why they couldn’t retrieve Miguel themselves.
The tavern was still quiet, the patrons wide eyed and receptive of silence. All were watching Leo and his men casually stroll outside. Mateo caught one last glimpse of the waitress, who was now avoiding eye contact, pretending she didn’t see him.
He swallowed hard. Tonight would be rough – in a silver cell, under the full moon? He would be huddled up in a corner, wild with fever and no one to let forth upon. Cursing again, he realized they came at this time for a reason. Mateo boarded the back of the wagon, his cuffs now attached to the bars. His friend came scrambling out, a scared look in his eyes.
“What about me?” He asked cautiously, looking throughout Leo and his men, “this is my first night alone and-“
Leo moved quickly with his sword, as he swiftly disemboweled the young man, then swiped and watched his head roll. Mateo screamed in absolute anguish, smelling the blood having splattered his face and the bars. That was his only friend. The last one he had ever made. He’d known him long enough that he should have remembered Leo would kill him.
Leo’s eyes were glowing. He sneered, his teeth had come out a bit. He cracked his neck, then spat on Mateo’s friend.
“You know the rule,” Senor Ramos said calmly, “he hadn’t been inducted or properly turned. Besides, I have a job for you…”
That didn’t change the fact that his companion was murdered in cold blood. How quiet everyone was. How strange it was that no one protested, yet watched. It was as if the entire town knew Mateo would be here…and be caught by men wearing shiny buttons on their jackets and bows in their hair. Mateo was beginning to hate a lot of things.
His drunken mind knew the cell he was going to. He had been here before.
****
One. Three. Eight howls now. In unison. They were inebriated, loud. Showing off. Mateo, however, was crouched in the corner, shaking violently. He’d thrown up. Now he was seeing things. Miguel, sitting across from him, laughing,
Ugh, he thought, too much licorice.
More howling, off in the distance. Local wolves turning and probably killing. All free, but Mateo. He understood fully. He hated that too. It would be a few hours before dawn, before the moon would lose its sway. Until then, all he could do was shiver, cry silently and ache. This cell was definitely lined with silver. He suspected the floor was as well.
Leo and his men never spoke out loud about their plans to use Mateo, not that he could make out their side conversations. For all he knew, they were all fucking each other. Or each other’s wives. Mateo couldn’t tell.
He huffed out a shallow howl, winced and whined. That hurt entirely too much. Then he panted, curling up half human, half dog. Breathing faster – he was nervous.
The howls let off again, irritating Mateo. So up he pounced once more, trying to peer out of the bars of his confinement and finding the silver stung just as bad as the first time. He whined, curling into a ball on the floor, on the one spot where the silver had been worn off.
Mateo was also mourning his friend, simply named Junior. He was only twenty-four years old. He sired him last month. Junior and his men thought they could best the wolf, following him into the woods. After he killed every single one of his friends, he gave Junior a choice.
He should have just killed him then and there. Mateo needed someone young enough to know the customs of the world he reentered, yet old enough not to be scolded for drinking and whoring. He whined again, feeling the sting from wounds trying to heal, hoping the sun would rise soon.
Now, he felt it was best to close his eyes and rest – even if the howling started again. Whatever job Leo had for him would be his last, and he was certain it had everything to do with Miguel. His brother owned the island he lived on, as well as the ports. However, an age-old vampiric council made roots nearly one hundred years ago, but this was during a time that Miguel was in mourning himself.
That made Mateo’s lonely heart ache. He still didn’t know why he killed his mother, as it had all been for nothing. For nearly hundreds of years, Mateo had been homeless, close to being so…and running for his life. The only times things made sense was when the moon was full and he was free. He could smell the dinge and sweat that had gathered on his matted hair. There were scabs around his hands and ankles.
Mateo had been sensible and handsome once. Until the day he realized his father didn’t care much for him. He whined again, wincing at the pain from the cell. That still wasn’t a legitimate reason to kill anyone.
While Miguel was holding down the fort (slowly imploding) Mateo saw fit to fuck and fancy with the entire continent of Europe, and the islands in the Caribbean where his father owned a home. He hadn’t been there in a while, he hated boarding ships.
What possessed his brother to marry now? He had so many opportunities to do so. Miguel was just as old as he, younger by only thirty years. His brother initially bit a woman who pledged her undying love to him, and with that she killed an entire town, leaving only a small child behind. Mateo had done the same, after having killed his mother.
He couldn’t help himself.
During all of this, he wondered if he’d ever run into his brother, but he never saw a sign, or anything. Then Mateo grimaced. He never saw his father. Perhaps that beast was dead.
Their father, Eduardo, a Moor muddled with Spaniard blood, had always been ambitious. Traveling the world, always on his own. He often visited the Caribbean, and that’s how he met their mother. Shortly before the crusades had ended, Eduardo found himself confused about the landscape, considering he was dark. None of the people in his household were considered slaves; he gathered they needed jobs and he needed help.
Their mother, Mariposa, was working in his household when Eduardo decided he wanted to marry her. He, however, didn’t realize she was a werewolf as were her sisters and brothers he had hired alongside her. Eventually, he had been turned to ease tensions within their relationship, but this was after Mateo was born.
Life was good before Miguel came along. Mateo was always under his father, even as he grew with age. He didn’t start showing signs of wolf hood until his mother ended up pregnant with Miguel. When he turned, it was ferocious, scary. He was unhinged.
Eduardo fought to keep Mateo subdued so the island and household would not suffer any casualties. And because of his poor behavior, Eduardo eventually banished Mateo. Tying him to a ship, and letting it sail off to sea. He said if he found him later, he was stronger than he thought.
So, Mateo scrambled to get back to the islands where he was born, only to find an empty manor, and wide eyed residents of his old home. Seeing that he had been abandoned because of his rage and jealousy, Mateo stuck close to his family once finding them again and only interfered when he heard the plans his father had, despite there being another son.
Mateo whined again, more high pitched this time. He quivered, wincing pains palpitating throughout the stench, scabs and matted fur. It was simply that no one told him otherwise. He found out the hard way.
And here, even still, he should have never killed his mother.
***
The cell had suddenly become increasingly warm, the sun near high noon and Mateo had finally fallen asleep. He heard Leo’s footsteps approaching, but didn’t feel like moving. Leo would demand something ridiculous of him, and send him on his way.
He could smell lavender wafting in, the efforts of trying to cover up his excessive drinking. Mateo felt he could use a bath as well. He was hoping that would be the case.
Leo huffed, as if hesitant to wake Mateo, who simply sat up and stretched now, knowing he’d be leaving the cell.
“An age-old vampiric council settled on your brother’s land and he hasn’t budged. Instead, he marries one of their half breeds and expects leniency…”
“So long as he doesn’t sully her womb…”
“The council suggested Miguel was saving the mother at firsthand, knowing she was with child…”
Mateo didn’t understand why that was bad, except the young woman was half human. He gazed across the cell, doing his best not to answer in a condescending tone.
“The girl’s mother was royalty. From a bloodline that has been around for far too long. My sources believe Miguel sits on the vampire’s fortune. The House of Desespere, as they are named, are asking for extraction-“
“They signed a deal with him and don’t want to seem like blood sucking, tyrannical ass wipes?”
“Well, they are. They want the girl dead. By any means necessary.”
Leo was asking this of him because Mateo didn’t care much for anyone else’s life the majority of the time. But Leo didn’t understand that Miguel would flee, and or fight to the death. Both were things Mateo didn’t feel like seeing through, especially dying. However, he could leave his cell, accommodate new clothing, and have some spare change for the trouble. Perhaps he wouldn’t kill the girl, and pretend to do so. Maybe he would disappear, again.
This seemed worth it, how would Leo make sure he followed through?
Mateo stood, sticking his hand through the cell bars to shake on it. Leo grinned, directing his men to open his cell.
“Maybe after you bathe…” he chimed.
Ah, yes, Mateo thought. A basin filled with lavender and rose, with warm water. Wide eyed servants…
Except no, as they rounded the corner.
He saw smaller basins filled with water, new clothes draped over the stone benches in the courtyard. Mateo certainly wasn’t anticipating what came next.
“Strip him of his clothing, and begin please…” Leo said, behind him.
Mateo was quickly stripped bare, standing on the stone which had been weathered from the sun and rain. It was hotter here than his cell. He became a little angry, especially after the first bucket was thrown on him. The sweet water stung in a way, as there was now a procession of water from all directions until he screamed out that it cease.
“My wife doesn’t want you in the house!” Leo yelled back.
Mateo nodded as he wiped his eyes, knowing more water would follow. Through this, he could hear the laughter, taunting and jokes. He knew the barber was disgusted with his partially dreaded hair, still covered in layers of filth. And when he was finally dressed and ready, he still felt dirty in a way.
The sun was starting to set now, one of Leo’s men came around the way with a horse, and a pouch of money. Mateo took the reins, immediately petting the horse, calmly talking to it as Leo conversed with his men, taking time to glare at him receptively.
“Miguel will run,” Mateo said loudly, mounting his steed, “am I to chase him?”
“No. You are to rendezvous with my men near his town. His wife makes frequent trips down to shop now, almost weekly. You are to wait until the time is right and then strike. Kill her and only her. Once you return, I’ll pay you the full amount.”
Mateo frowned. He wasn’t trying to come back. He knew not meeting Leo’s men would end badly for him, so he nodded despite what he was feeling.
“You’ll ride to Valencia, since we’re nearer the Atlantic coast now. A ferry awaits you. It’ll be free. It takes a few hours to cross the strait that connects to his island. After that, follow the instructions of Roberto and Gustav. No matter how stupid they sound….” Leo said, as if disgusted with his options of officers.
Mateo caught that, and it made him nervous. Stupid men were jumpy and greedy. This probably wasn’t going to go according to his plan.
When Mateo looked ahead, Leo quickly grabbed the reins of his horse and glared up at him,
“If you run, you better hope we don’t find you…”
Mateo glared back down, doing his best not to waver even with all that was on his mind. He sighed deep, looking ahead at the crystalline night approaching near the west, oranges, pinks and blues swirling and forming the greatest of views.
“Then we better hope it doesn’t rain.”
Chapter Six A New Leaf for an Old Dog (originally posted 11/24)
Miguel had finally caught Nia on her way to town, promising extra money, engaging in conversation. He was showing that he missed his wife. He didn’t bother undressing her like he usually did, and she mounted him as if in dire need as well.
He bit his lip as his eyes rolled back now. Nia’s hands were planted on the wall to help keep her balance. Miguel was moaning a little bit – usually he would grunt. Or give commands. When he was certain he was close, he pulled away, finishing on her dress he promised he wouldn’t ruin.
It was on the hem, and still Nia clicked her tongue, walking to her wash bowl hoping to wipe most of it off.
“I’m sorry,” he lied, laughing a little.
“Mentiroso,” she said, haughtily.
Normally, Miguel would give chase, grinning at her playful attempts to run, and her squeals when she was caught. His mind tinkered over their little games as he watched her – he was impressed by the schedule she was keeping, but regardless he missed her.
“You’re still going?” He was openly showing his disappointment.
“Yes,” Nia answered him plainly, looking herself over, “I’ve been invited for afternoon tea…”
“Say no and stay home,” Miguel requested, making it to her.
His hairy chest had swirls of sweat on it, and he was as close as he could manage, sniffing her hair, running his hands down the length of her arm. He may as well still be nude, he pulled his pants on, at least. She could see his desperation…yet she only went out once a week.
When she turned to face him, he smiled, resting his slightly sweaty forehead on hers. He knew he was keeping her. So now he kissed her cheek, then began grabbing up his clothes.
“Keep this up, and I’ll have to tie you up next time…” he said jokingly, leaving the room.
Nia quickly followed after him, Miguel stopping at the top of the stairs sporting her favorite grin now. She knew he said it to entice her, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around that.
“I have to go,” she said softly, brushing past him to grab at his bulge.
Miguel bit his lip in satisfaction, watching Nia prance down the stairs then out of the front door. He wouldn’t see her until dinner.
She wanted to walk, but Miguel insisted the carriage was necessary – Nia disagreed..she felt it was a way to keep tabs on her. Two of his five horsemen left with her, as protection. And she always brought her lady’s maid along. Nia did not consider this a freedom or a luxury, she saw it as a way to be controlled.
Fortunately, she could ease her mind at Isabella Montage’s house – her newest friend. The Montages were odd…they collected pinned bugs and taxidermy animals. She wondered what their house looked like inside, hopefully nothing too much.
Nia was nervous, she wasn’t sure making friends was wise, but she had things she wanted to do, like throw a ball on her birthday. Miguel would simply have to deal with it. The Montages knew everyone, so all Mrs. Cervantez would have to do is say the word and it would be done.
Upon approach, a cold, unexplainable feeling came over her as she stepped out of the carriage. Given that it was late summer, a cool wind wouldn’t be that strange. Yet, this was the feeling of doom, in a way. Like the beginning of a storm that builds up and destroys on its way out.
Isabella was standing at the entrance, holding a god awfully, hideous cat. Nia almost hissed at it, when she realized how improper that would be.
Her friend squealed, setting the cat down to hug her, then she grasped Nia’s hand and beamed at her.
“Edgar is away for a while, it’ll just be us girls,” she started, “do you want tea or a drink?”
Maria cleared her throat…Nia coming home inebriated wouldn’t go well with her faithful pet husband.
“Tea is fine, besides…we have to tour your grounds,” Nia answered.
“And what better state to be in than drunk?” Isabella remarked.
Nia had no words. Isabella was a dark woman – dark straight hair, caramel skin and eyes the color of coal. She was tall like Nia, about five foot seven inches, and had no kids. Nia couldn’t place her age, and because she acted young at heart, it set her at ease. She chose Isabella as a friend because of her attitudes and mannerisms, often wondering why she was so…
Different.
It was a shared feeling, one Nia couldn’t put her finger on. Or perhaps, she was just happy to have a friend, not that Miguel hadn’t become that as well. She was smiling to herself now at his teasing, his furrowed brow when she arrived home. How he would pretend he didn’t hear her or see her.
Then he would lavish her with affection, all week long.
Nia was listening to Isabella point out statues – home owners seemed to need stories for carved granite, apparently. Then Nia caught the coastline in the distance, as she had never known it was so close. Isabella rounded her grounds, circling fountains, imported plants and trees. There was a lot to take in. Nia enjoyed the sights, yet was relieved when they turned heel to head inside.
Their halls were grand, oddly decorated with the pinned bugs she had spoke of. More obscure carved granite – angels, wolves and people who she couldn’t place a name to.
Isabella went on about the history of certain artifacts…everything was normal until they entered the drawing room.
A large, taxidermy wolf was on display, standing on its hind legs. It was ferocious, even dead, and huge…at least nearly seven foot tall in its stance. Nia knew how men were with their hunts, but there was something off about this particular prize.
“Have a seat,” Isabella said softly, motioning to a couch, where tea was situated nearby.
Nia sat down, looking over at the marvelous weaponry…knives of glistening silver, swords casted nearly the same. The room was brightly lit, but it felt ominous, dark and unsettling still. Nia wanted to ask, even though she had a feeling she wouldn’t like the answer.
Her thoughts were swarming, as she sunk further and further into the baroque soaked couch, until a gentle hand touched her own.
“Are you alright?” Isabella asked with concern in her eyes.
“I’m not used to being out for so long…” Nia lied.
The two made eye contact, Nia now attempting to guard her reactions to Isabella’s thoughts.
Who doesn’t go out? Of course, that husband of hers is grandly suspicious. She is as well, not as magnificent. Lord Cervantez has done well in keeping her quiet. I wonder what else she’s hiding. I did bring her into this room on purpose…after all…
Nia snatched her hand away, reaching for her tea, shaking a little. When she thought the townspeople did not care or know about Miguel, she was now having second thoughts. There were only a few properties this grand in Miguel’s island, everyone else lived in town.
Then she decided to pretend everything was alright – suddenly. She smiled, sipping her tea.
“I am exhausted. Miguel keeps me that way,” she taunted.
Isabella, completely caught off guard, laughed loudly and rubbed Nia’s hand for reassurance.
“Can’t say I blame him, you are gorgeous,” she answered.
“I wanted to tell you above anyone else. I’m throwing a ball for my birthday in November. You know everyone, so I was hop-“
“Say no more!” Isabella exclaimed, “of course I’ll brag about getting invited first! How does Miguel feel about it?”
“He’ll come around…” Nia said quietly, sipping her tea.
“Ah, he said no…or he will.”
Nia laughed, both were applicable. She had said enough about her husband, that it wasn’t hard to tell he was controlling and overprotective. Her mind hadn’t let go of one terrifying factor though.
However, she gave credit to not knowing enough, she never gave into fear. Was that because she had no experience? She was wise for nearly twenty-two, yet, at this very moment…she felt like she missed something.
In any case, Isabella was playing along, now telling stories about the room they sat in. Eyeing the wolf and hoping Nia would ask about its history. When she didn’t, and Isabella saw Nia was ready to leave, she happily escorted her out with Nia pretending she didn’t witness what looked like a werewolf on display for any guest to see.
Nia waved from her carriage, realizing she may be late for dinner. After their goodbye, Edgar procured himself from a room nearest the front door, slowly closing the other door and eyeing his wife.
“What did she say?” He asked this without hesitation.
“Nothing about Miguel. The statue seemed to upset her, it’s hard to say with this one…”
“Well, we have to make quick work. The Stretch of Concord is also after Mr. Cervantez for different reasons…”
Edgar began walking down the hall, knowing his wife would follow. They were hoping to set a trap, but needed more proof Miguel was a werewolf. The people in the town would not speak on it, and all they had to go by were illegally obtained records from a shady character they met years ago – how reliable the records were wasn’t certain.
Miguel Cervantez would only be able to hold his breath underwater for so long.
***
Miguel continued pacing back and forth in front of his grand entryway. The sun was nearly set, Nia would have been home by now. When he heard the familiar crackle of his carriage, he still paced…hoping his reaction to her wouldn’t be too fierce…
The doors opened and he stopped immediately, walking quickly to survey his wife.
“Dinner-“
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Something was wrong, but to wring it out of her wasn’t his expertise. If he trodded tonight, she’d never say a word. If he forced it out of her, there would be regrets waiting on the other side of an unnecessary fight. She seemed happy to receive him, but there was definitely something on her mind.
“Are you hungry?” He asked sweetly.
She nodded, then folded into him for a hug like a distraught child. He cupped her head into his chest, sniffing her hair and waiting for the downpour. However, she stood there, head buried in his shirt. Nia had never been quiet.
“Let’s eat.”
She straightened out, and smiled a little, following him into the dining area. Maria kept her pace, slowly accepting her accessories, and as they were sitting, went to the room to settle down as well. Nia was hungry, perhaps her silence could be fixed with food. While it could help, her mind was still tinkering over what she just witnessed.
“How was your visit?” Miguel asked, working his way through his own plate.
“Odd,” Nia answered honestly, “they own a lot of curios.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. There were only two things he knew for certain that Nia disliked.
“Bugs,” he said confidently.
She nodded, laughing at herself as well. The entire home seemed to be decorated with dead bugs – she had seen the biggest scorpion ever, on display in the hall. While that was pretty disturbing…nothing compared to what she thought she saw.
“Serves you right,” he joked, “stay home.”
Nia laughed. He used any excuse to say that, but he may be correct this time around. Nia shifted in her seat, noting she still had something on her mind. Truly, the bugs were magnificent, though not her taste. She had never been certain of monster hunters, simply because she had been kept away.
If Isabella and her husband were hunters, anything that happened…Nia would feel responsible. She saw the signs early on, but assumed Isabella was simply just different. No children or plans to have them. Darker wear, even on sunny days. No feminine trinkets, except a beautifully carved amulet she claimed was her idea of a wedding ring.
Nia had been silent for far too long now, and hadn’t touched her food. When she looked up, she saw Miguel studying her, a very stern look upon his face. To that, she burst into tears, grabbing at her napkin as her husband approached to be at her side.
“I’m sorry!” she wailed now, allowing him to cup her face.
Miguel squatted down, looking into her eyes, as he waited to hear what the issue was.
“I thought I made a friend, but I’m not sure how I feel about her-“
“Was she disrespectful?” Miguel pondered.
“No, maybe…maybe it’s just too good to be true!”
Nia didn’t want to give herself away too much, because she knew angering Miguel would spring a trap. As she settled down, his eyes still on her, she realized she may need to twist things around a bit.
“I want to throw a ball, and all I know is Isabella,” she said quietly, as if now a timid mouse.
“For your birthday, I assume,” was his answer, “I suspected. But what’s lack of friends have to do with that? Most balls…people clique up. No one knows everyone. And you wouldn’t want to anyway.”
Miguel rubbed a few of her tears away, then dragged a chair to be next to her. There, he offered his hands, hoping she would make eye contact. She did, smiling a little. As if she couldn’t help but to smile from his warmth.
“We can throw a ball,” he answered, “since it’s just her. Maybe her husband. She has friends, they’ll all come. Perhaps after, we’ll go on vacation…”
For the simple fact that he said yes, Nia was willing to ignore his old man sentiments. Leaving sounded like running. With this, she was sure he had his reasons. She took a bite of her meal, realizing it was rabbit. It had been a while since it was served, meaning the trapped had been fixed. Perhaps Miguel was worried for nothing.
Once she was done, they slowly walked to their room together – Nia was exhausted from the day. And instead of pursuing her, Miguel allowed Nia to fall asleep in his arms.
He knew there was more to her tears, but Nia had never really been out in society.
***
Isabella was listening to the waves crash upon the shore, and her husband’s snoring. She was idling on telling all of her friends about the ball. It put her own household at risk. If Miguel turned out to be a werewolf, their chance was at Nia’s birthday celebration. However, monster hunters were also frowned upon. All of the friends she accumulated over the years would no longer support her. The ugly truth would come out.
That, and it would alert The Stretch of Concord as well, something she didn’t feel like dealing with.
Isabella seldom slept unless she took her tonics. Every night, she imagined the death of her father. The howling, and tearing of flesh. His pathetic cries. Some monster hunter he was. And to this day, she still felt he had been set up. It was too convenient. He was without the tools he forged, and he had been alone.
She was only twelve and hadn’t been trained enough to properly put a werewolf down, so ended up hiding under the floorboards…where she could hear and partly see everything. Blood oozed into the cracks, dripping onto her night gown and satin slippers. She had pressed her hand tightly over her mouth, in the attempts to calm her breathing and muffle any attempted screams.
Isabella was standing on the balcony to her bedroom, looking into the black of night, feeling as if she were being watched. It had been eleven years since her father was ruthlessly murdered…and she still hadn’t killed an actual werewolf herself. Edgar had, he lived for it. But she felt she was failing the history of her family.
The black of night was deepening, eerily surrendering to the ocean spray, and the wailing of distant seals. It was silent other than this, no human voices, or birds. Just darkness, water…and her. Draped in cream silk, her night garments fluttering in the wind. She was swallowed up in her sorrows again, and Nia’s face flickered in her mind now.
Her perfect coils, and caramel skin. Those eyes…they were like honey. Her stance…the way she dressed. It didn’t seem natural. She didn’t seem bogged down by normal humanness. She had complained about Miguel, about never leaving. That was normal. For someone as young as Nia…who’d never been married…
She spoke and acted as if she had been locked away for the majority of her life. Her clothing was dark, vivid though. Like she was spoiled or rich. Miguel’s manor was impressive, that part made sense. Yet, Isabella pondered why a woman of dark complexion needed a black lace parasol, and black lace gloves in nearly eighty degree weather. Perhaps she was ill?
Isabella dismissed that she may be a vampire, considering she was always outside. She had nothing else to consider. A demoness, maybe? Like the ones she used her tonic for. To keep them at bay.
A white abyss was forming, the darkening shadows of her demons descending as they always did. She could hear whispering now, feeling her thoughts creeping elsewhere. How dare she assume anything from Nia when she had her own issues she was battling. Isabella was pretending to avenge her fathers death, when what she really wanted was to kill without cause. And who better to take it out on, then newly weds…and a possible werewolf?
Miguel had been in town a few years ago, and Isabella couldn’t help herself. He was gorgeous. Just the right height, long dark hair that was wavy, and tucked behind his left ear. She remembered her eyes traveling all over. From his broad shoulders, his tight fitting jacket over his arms. His stance and demeanor – he meant business. Their eyes met briefly, he was uninterested in anyone else. But for some reason took time to stare at Isabella, as if staring into her soul.
During all of this, he looked her up and down before walking off with his servants. Isabella couldn’t sleep for weeks, she felt feverish. Waiting for when she’d see him again. The demons were hissing in her ear now, mocking her decision to stay with Edgar…whom she was comfortable with but did not love.
When she laughed to herself, the sounds of the ocean returned, the light from her room could be seen, and she felt a sense of shame. Miguel probably suspected she may be a monster hunter. Or perhaps he was trying to figure out what she was looking at. He remained the subject of her fantasies for a while.
Nia and her crossed paths at the tea parlor, having chosen the same blend. She didn’t know her name until just last week, when Nia said she had to travel uphill. There was only one home up there. Cervantez. All her fantasies were completely obliterated. Nia was gorgeous, she knew Miguel was all over her. She could almost smell the man on her.
Isabella walked inside, knowing Edgar wouldn’t stir, then she walked into the drawing room to have a seat. The fire was still going, the room lit well enough for her to continue reading as she always did when she couldn’t sleep.
She leaned forward to reach for her book, immediately noticing a long, stray hair on the table. Nia had sat here, perhaps it was hers. However, it was straight, coarse…and dark gray from the looks of it. Isabella stood in excitement, looking back at her dead animal on display, knowing its fur was brown.
Nia’s silence was odd, but elongated dog hairs definitely gave her away.
© Copyright 2025 JCS
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The Heiress JCS 