The Devil Tips His Hat To Me

Chapter XII

Nights bled into days, and days into nights until the gathering is a grand celebration overmorrow. The whole time, the two spent it with each other's company. The castle was considerably getting warmer each second from their genuine laughs from one another. And it was all the vampire ever wanted: For someone to make his nights not gloomy and miserable and cold. It made the idea of going to the gathering even more so a waste of time.

But then again, many would expect him there as he has to come up to his reputation that fell on him for being Voltaire's son. More than that, his father would be disappointed if he didn't attend the gathering. His mother, Solanine, would be furious, after all, she made the party for him.

And Vanessa...

Vanessa expects for him as well. What with the letter she's sent to him saying that she's more than excited to see him soon. That she can't wait for the party just to see him, talk to him and have a pleasant night with him soon.

Vanessa and he go way back, and the thought of seeing her again after all these years makes him happy. Although not as happy as he thought he'd be, which makes him feel (odd).

"Master, you are dancing with your partner, not trying to break her."

Duke was roused from his contemplation and instantly stopped from his next step. He looked over at Scopulus as the music halts. The bow in the gargoyle's hand lowered, the violin as well from his hold against his chin.

"I have no intention of doing that."

"It looks like you're dancing her to her death, master."

"I do not dance for the pleasure of killing someone."

"That is entirely not my point, sire. You dance as if Death itself is you. You're steps are quick, you're form is too difficult to follow I'd be surprised if your partner survived with her limbs still attached. And lastly, you are not dancing to the music I played to which I recall should be slow and lasting which is far from what you just showed."

The vampire, exasperated, crumbled down into a sit on the dance floor. He sighed, regretting more clearly now of his acceptance to the invitation. He hopes Missi is still sleeping undisturbed in her room, completely oblivious of how he looks ridiculous right now.

"I have to agree with Scopulus. You did dance with me remember?"

Duke froze.

"And from my experience, I did think you were dancing me to death."

"Yes, my lord. You dance demandingly-"

"Controllingly-"

"Very quickly-"

"And, creepily-"

"Might I add too sophisticatedly I just have to advise you to tone it down a little bit. Not little, but all the way down."

For a moment, Duke was as still as a statue as he stares at Missi's delicate form beside Scopulus. He was sure that if he doesn't have such a deathly pale complexion, he'd gone noticeably as white as snow. and if he still has his heart alive and beating, it'd be pumping vigorously inside the confines of his ribcage in hopes of punching a hole through his chest, killing him for good.

For once, Duke was thankful for these tiny shortcomings.

He stares at her wide eyed like a child caught red-handed on a cookie jar until he finally blinks away his humiliation. Her countenance vividly portraying amusement and interest made his fingers flex in discomfort. Guiltily, he glanced up at her before looking away once again, hiding his drumming fingers behind his back.