Évrard D'Aboville has been the lethal left hand of King Sabien Arceneaux for centuries. Using his deadly skills, he's indiscriminately killed and maimed at his master's behest. He had never once been disobedient. That is until he was asked to kill a...
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Évrard D'Aboville-The Creature
I stalked angrily through the halls of the dark mansion near the cusp of dawn. Never had I ever in several centuries missed a mark. I had to settle for some peevish terminal bachelor walking his toy poodle in the wee hours of the morning. Suffice it to say, this feed was not nearly as satisfactory as it should have been.
I found myself in the kitchen, sitting on a stool before the marble island twirling a dagger by it's handle with two fingers. Thankfully, the house was mercifully quiet.
It was nearly daybreak so all the other dead things like me were making their way to their burrows. I preferred such hours for their silence. All the noise of the modern world vexed me greatly. I miss the time when the loudest things during the day was the whinny of the odd horse.
The others of my kind preferred to live in larger groups. Not that there were very many of us left. Perhaps it's the reason they sought safety in numbers, in what they lovingly refer to as nests. I have always been different. Not once in my long life did I ever desire the company of others of my kind save two; Sabien Arceneaux and his sister Anaïs.
"You're home late Évrard," Anaïs drew out waggishly as she switched with exaggerated flare while walking into the kitchen.
She knew how I enjoyed the sway of her hips but just now I was too frustrated to give it the full measure of my attention.
"So I am," I quipped back in a manner more curt than usual. And that was saying something as my usual temperament is at best described as brackish and a very acquired taste. Hence my preference for solitude.
Her well manicure brows shot up, "Someone's in a mood today." She continued playfully dismissing the blackness of my mood.
"Whatever mood I am in Ana is none of your damned affair." I glared before I turned my back. It was never wise to mix business and pleasure but that was the unfortunate story of Anaïs and I.
Addictive as heroine is to humans; centuries later and she still knew how to get under my skin. I felt her soft touch invade my mind. Had anyone else been so bold, I would have kindly separated their head from their shoulders. But, Anaïs knew I'd never harm her and frequently took advantage of this fact.
