18 December 2012
(An excerpt from The Blood Mile)
Paris 1789
BANG. The jewel encrusted goblet came crashing to the floor after I had rather foolishly attempted to keep it in balance.
"Imbécile!"
Scala hissed, whipping around to face me. Her eyes were full of fire, burning with such intensity that I feared she would lash out and knock me cold to my grave if I provoked her further. Her jaw tensed, nostrils flared, deep black eyes baring down me in such a way that radiated intimidation and made me breathe a quick prayer for my life. In a flood of realization, it came to me that Scala was no longer the fragile little girl who would snake through the Paris market place picking pockets with ease, eyes glowing with amusement. No...the years had changed her and the life of deception had taken it's toll on her innocence. She was now a full fledged, cold blooded criminal with a high profile and a heavy price on her head. The earnest ferocity that gripped her at that moment seemed a result of all the perilous danger that loomed over her at every waking hour. There was a merciless death sentence to her name and she knew it.
"Scala -"
"Keep your head down and keep moving ." She growled behind clenched teeth, grasping my arm and thrusting me forward rather violently before resuming our journey down the grand hallway.
The west wing of the Sinclaire mansion was practically abandoned that night as both guests and servants alike were thoroughly occupied in party festivities over in the east wing which was just to the right of the grand hall. Through the magnificent echoing halls that seemed to extend upward forever, the laughter and banter of the merriment could be heard coming in waves of excitement at various points of entertainment. I had an intense desire to find out the source of the laughter, join the party, enjoy myself for once...
Scala and I made our way down the hallway and into a side corridor, leading us to a grand stone staircase that went winding to the upper level. Here, the only light sources were composed of small lancets far above our heads and flickering candles along the wall that threatened to burn out at any given moment. Scala paused and stared at the monstrous stairs before us as if in debate about whether or not to embark them.
"Zephànie's chamber is upstairs in the main wing. I have the key and we can take the secret passage to the garden. From there we can get back to Theo." I offered in attempt to help her make a decision. Still fixated on the stairs, her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to one side as if in deep internal contemplation. I didn't see the meaning of her indecisiveness.
"Qui va y! Who goes there?"
A man's voice suddenly shattered the silence of the hall from behind us.
We'd been found. Scala closed her eyes and cursed in Russian under her breath. Desperately shoving the goblet into my tunic, I turned to see the silhouette of a tall man standing in the lighted entryway. He seemed to be of his mid thirties, probably a nobility as he was formally dressed for the party. I could see that he squinted to see us in the dim lighting which fortunately concealed our identities by about three paces. Tentatively, he began stepping forward.
Scala fiercely gripped the collar of my jacket and pulled my ear to her lips.
"Take the goblet and run for the upstairs windows. Now. I'll take care of this." She hissed. As she spoke, her right hand snaked underneath her bodice and delivered a freshly sharpened blade that glinted menacingly in the candle light.
"Scala, no -" I protested.
The man stepped closer, repeating his question.
Scala's suffocating grip tightened even further.
"Tu idiot! I'm tempted to stab you and take the goblet myself, you fool, but I can't because Judas wanted us both out clean. Now go!"
She thrust me harshly towards the stairs.
I scrambled to regain my balance and bolted up the staircase for all I was worth, not looking back once. As I tore down the endless hallways in search of a window, the desperate scream of a dying man echoed throughout the mansion. Moments later, confused cries of party guests followed as they rushed to discover the tragedy that had occurred at the hands of a teenage girl...
"Oh god Scala what have you done?" I breathed in terror, realizing that I would most likely never see her face again.
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The Blood Mile • Opuss № I