Masquerade Vehemence

CHAPTER 5: CHARMS AND ILLUMINATIONS

"Wear whatever you want to," frowned Nathan, while flipping through the pages of a hefty book kept on the top shelf of a wooden rack.

His eyes moved from the novel to her and squinted. His head shook slightly.

"Mhm, I bet the dwells wouldn't be acquainted with sneakers, let alone chokers," Sarah said to herself.

"All right," he smiled weirdly and patted the book. "I think you can wear Ava's dresses. They'll fit you, hopefully. Uh, the wardrobe must be upstairs." His eyes again focused themselves on the book.

"Which room?"

"Haven't you seen the house yet?" said he, not looking up. Nathan spoke very fast when he was either thinking too much or when he wanted a riddance. This time it clearly wasn't the former.  "There are only two rooms upstair. You're looking for the one on your left. It has a joint balcony and staircase leading to—"

"Thanks. Got my answer," she smiled. "What are you going to wear?"

"What do you care, Sophie? I think you are—"

"If you don't want to tell me, just say it. My bad, I asked." She expected him to say something but he only exhaled and said that they were running late. 

***

French Capital Tower, Bordeaux, France

"The Human Faction has always suffered losses because of those half-man creatures who steal our kids. Terminals crawl upon this Earth with a repulsive and abhorrent scent. They have made allies with power, but we've made with intellect. 

"I am a Witch, but no monster. However, proudly, and at some point, most arrogantly, belong to the Human Faction. Men! Prepare yourself for tonight, as every beam of sunlight shall stop touching our ground, we are to spread fire upon these bastards."

Romain de Fontaine walked down the vestibule stairs of the French Capital Tower. He'd seen her while giving the speech, her silver necklace shining the way that night fire would. However, right now, she was no where to be seen. And that was a cue for him to know that she wanted to talk to him. 

Returning to his car, he found a girl leaning against the car with her eyes closed. Arabella. He frowned seeing her feet crushing half-smoked cigarette butt. "You don't have to hide it. I allow females to, you know, have a puff."

She lightly shook her head as her mouth formed a half-smirk.

Instantly, Romain could hear some whimpers. Then some short breaths. They were like rustles of trees--soft, yet sharp and clear. Before he could push Arabella aside, and look near the wheel of the car, she cleared the way herself. There knelt a man, almost licking the bloody tyres. His body trembled as though he had seen a ghost. Perhaps, he had. Streams of thick blood mixed with saliva, ran down the corners of his shaking mouth, his hands covering his stomach as if there were a knife twisting into his body that he couldn't take out. Romain knelt down and took the man's other hand off his face. It was then when he saw a certain mark at the back of his palm. He tried to trace it was his fingers, his stealth hands making sure they weren't pressing the victim's eyes too hard. They didn't have to, for there were none left. 

Romain's heart sunk and he went white, seeing the eye-less body. He gulped, and turned to Arabella. He tried to shriek, but he couldn't. His body was too disgusted. "Why?"

She clicked her tongue and said, "I detest smokers."

"You little—"

"Shush, now. I don't allow men to, you know, cuss."

***

Ava Romain Clair's house, Bordeaux, France