la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

Eighty-Two

"Hi, Carlisle."

Hanging in the air, disrupted only by the quiet pour of an aged bourbon and the off beat thump of Minerva's heart, Carlisle stared at the back of her head. She hadn't even looked at him. She just knew. He didn't respond, there was no pleasantness left in him for pleasantries.

Her hand curled around the crystal, bottle left uncapped to the side as she took a healthy drink before facing him. "I suppose you've been told." She went on, taking the single step toward the  kitchen island that stretched between them like a battle line drawn in the stand.

A steadying breath filled his lungs as she faced him, leaning against the island. He wasn't sure what he expected but surprise gripped him that she looked so much like herself. The same little bump at the bridge of her nose, same calculating grey eyes, same delicate curve to her cupid's bow. She looked a lot like the woman he'd loved a few hours ago. Not the monster he'd come to imagine.

The woman he'd loved had looked at him like there was a joke only they were in on, like he was standing in light, like he meant something. Her gaze carried none of that now. Not blank but full of something in a language he wasn't fluent in, expectant. He hadn't expected her to be so relaxed.

He stalked forward until he was across from her, separated by laminate. "I've been more than told." He replied gravely, searching her face. You're in there, you have to be in there.

Her chin remained held high, glass rising to her lips though her eyes remained fixed on his, grey shining like silver probing at yellow hardened like gold. "Then you know." She went on evenly.

"I know." He couldn't chase the severity from his tone, the callousness that felt like it had no business in the room with her. "I witnessed."

Minerva blew out a breath, the kind she did when the grocery store didn't have the coffee she liked, like an inconvenience. "Witnessed." She echoed, voice echoing into her glass eyes leaving his for just a moment. She was calculating, he could see it. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd have never believed.

"I don't expect the service was that bad." Carlisle scoffed, voice thick with scorn.

"No." She said thoughtfully, glancing out the window into the cold of the night liquor swirling in her glass, "I tipped well." He bristled, something hollow and cold expanding in his chest. "You followed me?"

His lips tightened, curling into a sneer as he corrected. "I followed Edward," he shook his head in spite of himself, "I was just in time." Her knuckles twitched against her glass, head bobbing in an accepting nod.

"Well," Minerva said, tilting her head at him, "What else is there, then?" It landed like a slap across the face.

"Sorry?" He asked in disbelief, "What else is there?"

Minerva shrugged, brows lifting a little. "I can infer, I don't need a lecture the lecture. What else is there?"

"I've found out you're a murderer and you think I'm going to slap your wrists and we'd move on?" He asked indignantly.

A glimmer of a smile crossed her lips, "I mean, I can linger while you put the pyre together if you like." Minerva offered, "I figured you'd prefer I leave the hemisphere."

He stared at her, torn in half. Death or leaving? No other option? The fact that she thought.. "You can't be that stupid." Each word spat through his teeth. Her eyebrows lifted at him.

"Can't say I'm not full of surprises." Was she trying to piss him off? She had to be.

"What—" he shook his head, "Why— huh." He pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging in a deep breath. "You're acting like a child."