A Muse of Night

NINETEEN

Leon brought the two surviving witches to the dungeons, unfortunately one of them had lost too much blood and needed medical attention. My court walked down the stairs behind me, after a clean shower and a rightful change of clothes. I was ready for the interrogation. Out of that drastic suffocating corset and into a black blouse and matching black slacks. Like the perfect business woman who sought blood. The golden lion danced around my neck as my boots snapped against the ground. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail as the blue on the tops of my hair faded to a blonde.

Opening the door, I turned to my court and put my hand up. Leon and Jean looked between each other. "Twenty minutes the both of you." I commanded them, Jean backed away without a fight but I could tell Leon grew conflicted with my choice. "I won't do anything that will endanger my life, I promise you that." I told them both. Leon finally nodded in agreement.

My hand drifted against the iron of the door, looking down to my nails as I noticed their shape change. Sharp like claws as the hood of my engagement ring flashed against the light in the cell.

The witch trashed against the chains that bound her to the wall, a collar around her neck that stopped her from casting spells. I blinked when I saw it, my heart twisted in my chest. Those memories always burned my skin when I thought about them. The suffocation around my neck contorting my existence. So I rolled my teeth through my lip and proceeded to speak. "Let's play a game." I strained, sounding like that creepy fuck from Saw.

"As if I would ever tell you anything." She pulled away as her voice broke nasally.

I hated seeing a witch in pain, but it's what was needed to get my answers. If I were a Keeper, this would be fine. Torturing witches has been in my blood for centuries. I should be used to it by now, or so I thought. "You don't have a choice." I deducted, moving closer and closer to the body as she pulled away from me. My nose reaching close into the crook of her neck as I forced myself to pull away.

Biting on my tongue in exchange of the pain, I didn't recognize myself. As if Ithe were still separated from me and she was in control. It was hard to come to terms that I was the monster behind the mask, especially when the witch cried out with grief in her voice. "What did you do to Anca?" She sounded disgusted with me, spitting to the ground as blood left her tooth.

I tried to think about who she could have been talking about, but the longer I looked at the witch's face the more I realized she resembled someone. "Is that your sister?" I asked remembering the bitch I had murdered previously, I put my hand up and using the claw against my finger- I pushed against her skin near her heart. My eyes burning with desire as she hissed from the pain. I could simply reach in and rip out her heart, but I stopped herself. "I killed her, a sword right through here." There was no emotion in my voice, void of feeling anything as my mind went numb.

"Release me, fight me!" The witch yelled from the tops of her lungs, trying to break free of the shackles. I could tell she was hurting herself as the sweet aroma of blood filled the air.

I begged my body for control and it gave it to me, but I knew I would be hunting from my thirst after. Putting my hand on her shoulder, her pulse under my fingers. My eyes ran down her neck, I quickly pulled my gaze from the soft spot on her throat to the fear in her eyes. I wanted more of it. "That's not how this works." I shook my head, my bloody pony tail swung as a smile broke between my lips. A monster carved from ivory purged from the deepest of my hatred, the attempted to lunge out at me about but I pushed her back against the wall with my hand. Shaking my head to show her not to struggle, I could feel Natalia's binding spell wrapped around the witch's skin.

The witch yelled from the tops of her lungs, her throat raspy from dehydration. "You're a coward!" She told me but I didn't flinch from her words.

I turned my head a little to the side, looking past her skin and visualizing the veins under her skin. Thumping like a set of drums in my own version of desire. "Not the first time I've been called that, definitely." I considered, usually the words used to define me looked a little different. Whore. Witch. Bitch. Monster- but never coward. At least it had not been since I was a child. I had a list of interrogation questions but only one seemingly repeated itself in my head. "I want to know about Bas."