Seven Deadly Sons

Ameline. (34)

The royal insignia. 

Crushing the shape into a fist, I tried to reign in my anger. The smooth surface still cut into my hand, stoking the flames of bloodlust inside me.

How DARE they.

I left the slot immediately, with only one destination in mind. I was still in the princes clothes, clearly recognisable. But it did not matter, I did not care that I had made myself extremely recognisable.

Oliver tried to keep up with me as I strode, passing the House of Mirrors, the shop where I bought Olivers stuff from. When he realised we seemed to be racing he made a conscious effort to pump his little legs as fast as they could go to remain in front of me.

It made me smile. And then I smiled more, as a plan for the next fortnight finally formed. I had a starting position in mind, and its name was Pizzazz.

The shadow of the undercourt came over me, and a chill swept through the lanes. It smelt like home.

I had a stop to make first, before Pizzazz, so I headed to the residential quarter. The closer one got to the central capital of the shadow-city, the more the air smelt like money.

I wasn't the only one who knew this, obviously, and the streets were crawling with all manner of creature. I approach a thing that looks like a man, leant against a bright lilac lamppost. His red cap is hung low, and drips blood down his face in a manner that looks like tears. He lets me borrow the two items I ask for, with a time limit of ten minutes and a promise of more fresh blood.

Its small, but it will do.

The Ælfin we not too dissimilar to people, in that their sole goal was in acquisition. Everyone wanted something, and the best place to find the financing for that goal was the centre of a lawless city.

Lady Branáns' house was huge. And very black, for a lady of so much colour.

Her gardens were simple, a circular show of moss and peony.

I walked up to the front door and knocked once. Oliver sat on the doorstep next to me, staring forward. Ever hopeful.

The door opened and a butler stood, staring the two of us down. He had green hued skin and amber eyes. I say had because, with the metal skewer in his throat he is simply struggling to breath. He lands with a thump, and I am already walking over him. Oliver trots around the edge.

I do not bother closing the door, no time.

The maid servants pay me no mind, I am just another guest invited in by the doorkeep. Doorkeep's cannot keep doors if they are dead.

I estimate three minutes before the shouts of invader start, and I am already up the ornate wrap staircase.

Now, there are several doors here, and any of them could lead to a dressing room. A lady of her standing must have a whole room for clothing, perhaps two. I open a door and it leads only to another staircase — the maids back routes. A pretty young ælf with small iridescent wings is stood on the other side of the door, pile of towels in one hand and the other poised to open the door.

Her face forms an "o" shape, and stays that way with the skewer now in her own throat. She did not have to die, but she definitely would have sounded the alarm a moment too soon. Her body tumbles back down the steep stairs, towels floating everywhere. I am still holding the skewer where her throat was.

I shut the door and head further down, throwing them open now so I remember where I have been. I don't meet another creature, but the thrill of bloodlust is giving me a rush. I long to come across another of their murdering kind. Then, I find the dressing room.

It is large and oval, very similar to that of Tierneys infamous Pizzazz store. She must be a bigger fan than I thought. I stand in the centre, in the lowered circular step, and assess all the open racks until I find it. There.

The dress is just as I remembered.

Throwing off my clothes, I grab a duffel from under one rack and empty the contents of a barbers bag onto the floor. The clothes go in as they come off and then — then its time for the dress.

There's a long zip all the way down the back to the thigh, and as I step in the silk lining helps the tight fit to shimmer up my body quickly. We are of a similar size, but as a human I am curvier than a insect-woman, incidentally. I struggle to zip up the last few inches of back, right where my spine is — and thats when the butler is discovered.

Time to move.

Oliver, stood very impatiently by the door, guards the only way in and out. If someone comes in, at least he'll let me know (either by licking or biting the intruder, depending on how he feels).

I think about shoes, but decide against it. Better to run in bare feet, anyway. I admire how the long sleeves track down my arms like organza tattoos, shimmering as I throw the duffel over my shoulder.

The dress is loose from the glutes down and flows around me, snapping as Oliver and I rush toward the maids stairway. The door is still shut, and the creature is still rotting at the bottom. Rushing down the stairs, I take a vial of the girls blood awkwardly before continuing down the curved stairs.

My hands are yet again covered in blood, but its become such a common occurrence during my time in Afalon that I struggle to care.

The vial goes in to the duffel and I pull out the skewer. Its likely i'll have to fight more of them, but once outside the house they are outside of their job — and so dont care.

I reach the door at the bottom, Oliver at my back. I take deep breaths as I listen to the chaos beyond the door. Its hard to judge if anyone is directly behind.

Everyone knew to check the back stairs first, here in the undercourt. It was a common theory that they were never checked among the young ones — but the more experienced of homicidal creatures among us knew it was quite the opposite.

This is proved when a knife is put to my head from behind. Turning around slowly, I see a man in plain clothes and Oliver — licking his feet.

I sigh, useless guard dog.

"Give me the bag." The boy states, because he clearly is young if he's asking me for it.

"So polite." I say with a smile and a whistle, which makes him frown.

Oliver knows though, he knows to listen. He's already running when the door opens behind me with the full weight of my back against it, and I land on the floor with a thump at the same time as the boy pulls the skewer out of his abdomen. He lands soon after, clearly not used to wounds yet.

I take this opportunity to frame someone else and scream with all my might. "Intruder!" I yell, and point just for good measure.

Hopefully no one notices the new dress I have stolen, she only bought it from Tierney the other day after all. Hopefully they only notice a human girl terrified, and her dog.

As the ælfin crowd round, many of theme look at me - dragging myself backwards. Then, I am behind an island — meaning I must be in the house kitchens — and then I am up and running to the door.

Stepping over the butler, I remember to take out the second vial and have just started filling it when the rest of the staff have come to their senses and realise there are in fact two intruders.

But then, I am already beyond the threshold. They watch me leave, no longer their jurisdiction or their problem.

The undercourt has no rules, I did say so.