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
"Évrard where have you been, my friend?" Sabien found me sitting alone in the courtyard of our mansion at dusk. I was nursing a flask of alcohol drenched blood. My thoughts picking apart everything I'd learned about her, the little witch.
"Évrard, you know I do not enjoy delving into another's thoughts same as you. Why don't you tell me what you've been up to lately and where you disappear to each night?" He sat next to me on the bench. "Don't tell me the recluse finally decided to get a life? Or perhaps you're pursuing a new lover?"
The corner of my mouth ticked up. Lover? Perhaps the obsession I was having with this woman is on par with the effort I would exert to pursue a new love interest. But far from it. I planned to learn everything I could about her before I made my move to end her existence. But telling Sabien wouldn't do.
He would under no uncertain terms order me to end her sooner than I wanted to. You see reader, many years aback, a witch name Madame Marie Leveau attempted to end the existence of my kind. She became the de facto leader of a militant sect of witches, joining the covens with monster hunters. Their singular goal being the destruction of creatures who fed on human flesh.
Several great families including Sabien's gathered our forces to fight. Despite them having the upper hand with magic and even the support of the church we were able to wipe them out of existence. Well, nearly all. As I mentioned a few hunter sects remain but nothing that a single one of us could not dismember within moments, if we were so inclined. But witches-we all assumed them to be gone.
"I have met a woman," I said. It was not totally a lie. I did meet her but not in the way he would assume.
"Really? It is refreshing to hear you have not let melancholy doom you to a solitary existence. I love you, Évrard, but your fucking terrible to live with." He chuckled. His green eyes glimmering in the waning light. His smile recalling vivid memories of nights of heated passion we spent together in Madrid when we first met.
