Rendezvous Under the Moonshadow

Chapter 11: The Truce

The air in the underground garage seemed to freeze in an instant.

The Bloodthorn traitor's mad laughter, like countless tiny, poisoned, ice-cold needles, pierced Anya's ears and her heart.

"…Toy."

The word echoed in her mind, over and over again.

She looked at Seraphina, at her impossibly beautiful, unperturbed face. She desperately wanted to find some flicker of emotion in those ice-blue eyes. A hint of disdain, a flash of anger, even a spark of annoyance at being misunderstood would have been enough.

But she found nothing.

Those eyes were like two bottomless lakes, eternally frozen, calmly reflecting everything before them—including her own pale, bloodless face and her own emerald eyes, now wide with shock and hurt.

In that moment, Anya felt as if an invisible hand had seized her heart, squeezing it tight. It was a cold, sharp pain.

Was the traitor right?

Was she really just a new toy, picked up on a whim?

All the moments she had felt touched, the elation of being treated as an equal, the warmth she had felt from being "cared for"—was it all just her own wishful thinking? Was it all just an elaborate act, staged by this ancient, calculating vampire princess to better make use of her?

The thought coiled around her heart like a venomous snake, suffocating her.

She felt like a complete and utter fool.

"...Enough."

Just as Anya was about to be swallowed by this sudden, cold wave of despair, Seraphina finally spoke.

Her voice was as cool as ever, but it carried an undeniable finality, a power that ended all debate.

She didn't look at Anya. Instead, she turned her cold, dismissive gaze—the kind one reserves for an insect—back to the panting traitor on the floor.

"It seems your brain has been thoroughly fried by the Bloodthorn's ridiculous dogma," she said. "Did you really think you could unsettle anything with such a third-rate, divisive little trick?"

She stood up, looking down at him, her tone dripping with the supreme contempt of a superior being.

"The only reason you are still alive is not because I am merciful, but because the scent of your accomplices still clings to you. Through you, I can find them. As for you, your only value to me is to serve as a… beacon."

She paused, the corner of her lip curling into a cruel, icy arc.

"And now, you are about to lose even that final shred of value."

With that, she ignored the man who had started to tremble with fear again and turned to face Anya.

She walked towards Anya, step by step. Her long black boots clicked against the concrete floor with a rhythmic thud, thud. Each sound was like a hammer blow to Anya's chaotic heart.

Anya instinctively took half a step back.

She didn't know why. Was it fear? Or… something else?

Seraphina stopped a step away from her.

Her ice-blue eyes watched Anya, quietly, deeply.

"Do you believe him?" she asked.

Anya bit her lip, not answering. She didn't know how to answer. Logic told her the traitor's words were not to be trusted. But emotionally, Seraphina's indifferent attitude moments ago had been like a thorn, driven deep into her heart.

"Look at me, Anya Petrova," Seraphina's voice was more serious than it had ever been. It was the first time she had used her full name.

As if under a spell, Anya uncontrollably lifted her head and met those eyes that were like arctic glaciers.

In their depths, she saw her own reflection. A reflection that looked so small, so fragile, so full of confusion and insecurity.

"I will admit," Seraphina began to speak slowly, her words entering Anya's ears one by one with perfect clarity, "that part of what he said is true."

Anya's heart sank.

"It is true that I do not care about the fate of the Bloodthorn. I do not care if they kill a few vagrants, or if they create a few more monsters like the Imp."

"The sole reason I am dealing with this matter is because they—" she paused, her tone dropping to a lethal chill, "—are making a mess in my Domain."

"It infringes upon my authority and disrupts my order. That is all. I am no hero, and I have no intention of saving the world. I am simply… a monarch, guarding her territory."

Her confession was so direct, so… ruthlessly cold.

But for some reason, after hearing those words, the anger and sense of betrayal in Anya's heart… began to dissipate.

Because this sounded like the real Seraphina Valerius. Arrogant, selfish, yet… terrifyingly honest.

"As for you…" Seraphina's gaze lingered on Anya's face for a long moment. Her stare was so focused, so… profound, that Anya felt as if her soul was being drawn into its depths.

"...you are, indeed, the most interesting 'toy' I have come across in centuries."

The word was like a blade dipped in ice, stabbing straight into Anya's heart.

She felt her blood freeze in her veins. The last trace of color drained from her face.

So… so it was true.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found her throat was blocked, unable to make a sound. A cold, bitter wetness uncontrollably welled up in her eyes.

She quickly looked down, not wanting the other woman to see her in such a pathetic state.

Just as she thought she would be crushed by the utter humiliation and pain, Seraphina's cold voice sounded again.

"...A troublesome toy that talks back, gets into trouble, runs around like a headless chicken, gets moved by the smallest of kindnesses, and is easily swayed by the words of a manipulative third party."

Her voice paused.

Then, Anya felt a cold hand in a black leather glove gently lift her chin, forcing her to meet her gaze once more.

The touch was so light, yet it held an irresistible force.

Anya saw that her ice-blue eyes seemed to be… shimmering with a complex emotion she had never seen before.

"...But, also the only 'toy' I am willing to waste my time explaining myself to."

Seraphina looked at her, finishing the sentence, word by word.

Anya was completely stunned.

She stared at the breathtakingly beautiful face so close to her own. She stared into the deep, star-filled pools of her eyes. Her heart, in that moment, seemed to stop beating altogether.

"So," Seraphina's fingertips still rested on her chin, their cold touch sending a strange, magical shiver through Anya, "are you going to believe the words of a deranged lunatic I am about to turn into a 'beacon,' or… are you going to choose to trust me, the 'asshole' who is, at the very least, willing to explain this much to you?"

Her tone was self-deprecating, laced with something that, even she might not have recognized, was almost… coaxing.

Anya looked at her, at the ice-blue eyes reflecting her own pathetic image, and the hot tears that had been threatening to fall were, with sheer force of will, held back.

She sniffled, then, in a petulant tone thick with emotion, she mumbled:

"...I never believed that lunatic anyway."

A genuine, almost imperceptible curve finally touched Seraphina's lips.

It was like a single snowflake, silently landing on a lake that had been frozen for ten thousand years, creating a faint ripple that was yet powerful enough to shake everything.

"Good," she said.

Then she released Anya's chin and turned back to the traitor, who had collapsed on the floor in a heap of fear and despair.

Anya stood where she was, wiping her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were on fire. Her heart, after a moment of silence, began to pound like a drum, a frantic, unprecedented rhythm.

She knew she was done for.

Completely and utterly done for.

She was pretty sure… she was actually falling for this arrogant, sharp-tongued, selfish, ruthless, and yet, on rare occasions, fatally gentle… asshole of a vampire.

…

Seraphina did not resort to physical torture on the traitor again.

She simply walked up to him and placed a hand on his forehead.

"Look at me," she commanded.

The traitor's body trembled violently, as if wanting to resist, but under Seraphina's absolute power, all his struggles were futile. He was forced to look up into those deep, abyss-like, ice-blue eyes.

Anya saw countless tiny, silver lights begin to swirl and reassemble in the depths of Seraphina's eyes. The sight was mystical and… dangerously beautiful.

Was this… Telepathy? Or something more advanced, a vampiric form of mental intrusion?

The traitor's eyes began to glaze over, becoming vacant and empty. His body stopped shaking. He became like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Now, tell me…" Seraphina's voice became low and hypnotic. "Your base on the Sea Serpent. Where is it exactly? How many of you are there? Who is your leader?"

"...In… in the lowest deck… the freezer hold…" the traitor began to answer Seraphina's questions one by one, in a lifeless, dreamy voice.

"...A total of… twelve… our leader… is… 'Butcher' Barton…"

"And your next target… who is it?"

"...It's… it's the West Side… werewolf pack's… Alpha…"

Hearing this answer, Anya's pupils contracted sharply.

The West Side werewolf pack! Wasn't that… the pack she nominally belonged to?!

The Bloodthorn's next target was the Alpha of the pack!

Seraphina's brow furrowed slightly as well. Clearly, this answer was somewhat unexpected for her too.

She finished her questioning, getting all the information she wanted. Then, she removed her hand.

The traitor's body slumped to the floor like a sack of wet laundry. His eyes were still vacant, a thin line of drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. His mind had been completely shattered by Seraphina's powerful mental assault.

For a warrior, this was perhaps a fate worse than death.

"Deal with it," Seraphina said, standing up. She issued the final order to Anya, her voice unreadable.

Anya looked at the man on the floor, at the shell of what was once her "kindred," a mixture of feelings churning inside her. She knew he was useless to Seraphina now. Killing him might, in fact, be a mercy.

She walked over and drew the silver dagger from her boot.

She crouched down, looked into his empty eyes, and whispered in the ancient tongue only werewolves understood:

"…Rest now, lost brother."

Then, with a swift, unhesitating movement, she ended his pathetic, betrayal-filled life.

After it was done, she stood up and looked at Seraphina.

"What's our next move?" she asked. Her voice was calm again. "Should we… go warn the West Side Alpha? Tell them about the plot?"

Seraphina looked at her, a strange, unreadable light glinting in her ice-blue eyes.

"Warn them?" she asked in return. "As who? As a 'traitor' to the pack who's been consorting with a vampire?"

The color drained from Anya's face.

"Or," Seraphina's lips curled into a calculating smile, like a predator watching its prey walk into a trap, "as an 'ally' of myself, the Princess Valerius?"

"You and I, together, will go and pay a visit… to your werewolf leader."

(End of Chapter)