Castle Of Tears

Chapter 6: Misfortune

1095 A.D

Transylvania

Angelique found herself walking into a small clearing in the woods where gypsies had made camp. Maria, her loyal servant, had directed her there, in hopes of getting her fortune told by the elder of the tribe. She, of course, was hesitant, but the look in Maria's eyes—filled with pensive sorrow—had sparked a small flicker of curiosity in her. Hopefully, that curiosity would not end up biting her in the arse.

As she walked past several tents, she could not help but notice the prying eyes that were beginning to emerge from the shadows. She caught them from the corner of her eyes, watching her with wide-eyed stares filled with fear and interest; some of them narrowed their eyes into slits, regarding her with deep suspicion and prejudice. She was accustomed to such fixed gazes, but she did not like it. She especially did not like how these heathens were starting to grow bold to the point that they began to surround her.

She closed her eyes, keeping a calm countenance as she thought about Leon.

For your love, I will refrain from killing them. She thought to herself. She repeated it like a mantra, feeling the soothing effects after a few moments.

She opened her eyes. Among the group was a young girl who had the nerve to step forward until she was at arm's length. The girl was pointing at her with unconcealed scorn. 

Angelique gritted her teeth, tempted to bite off that wretched finger that offended her.

"You are not welcomed here, whore of the devil!" The girl spat venomously.

She offends me greatly!

Angelique's eyes burned with fury, turning a deadly shade of crimson. All the gypsies present gasped with fear, some of them grabbing their children and rushing into the safety of their tents. To the girl's credit, she stood unwaveringly.

"This is my land," Angelique replied curtly. "I need no invitation." She smirked.

The girl was not impressed. Crossing her arms, she looked back at Angelique with a smug look of her own. "We are not like the others. We know how to deal with your kind." She said with unbidden contempt.

The girl was cheeky, having a complete lack of trepidation. Angelique looked back and noticed that the girl's courage was contagious. Half of the heathens remained planted where they stood, ready to offer the girl any aide if needed.

Angelique was starting to become cross. How was she to handle this type of insubordination? She made a mental note to speak with Leon about her experience with  these horrible cretins.

"You seem well educated in what my kind is," Angelique said tersely. "But I am of the peerage, and you will make sure to treat me accordingly." She finished, looking at the girl with evident disgust.

Angelique held back a smile, noticing how the girl bristled at being spurned. She couldn't blame her; her kind was as equally despised as vampires were.

Before the girl could do something she would regret, an elderly woman appeared before them. She walked with grace, so much that it surprised Angelique. 

The old crone appeared to be free of the affliction many mortals faced at old age: deterioration of the skeletal system.

"Lavinia, this is not how we treat our guests." The crone softly chided her.

Lavinia looked at the crone with shock. Her dusky skin couldn't conceal the bashful blush that crept up from her neck.

She looked rather comely without the harsh lines her face held before. Angelique thought.