BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 211

William is looking for his medallion. It just broke a little bit. The bullet did not penetrate backwards, but made a sharp bump that slipped into the valve, right on the sigil of Solomon's triangle.

Was he on purpose or was this just a coincidence? While walking, he took off the portrait image in the necklace carefully, staring desperately at Arabella's broken face. It was the only portrait he had with Arabella. It took them a long time to get that picture. Back then, things weren't as complicated as they are now.

There was a breath of hunting. Someone was targeting him from the side, from a hidden corner. William looked. He doesn't have to do anything. The devil had already slipped out of his body and manifested himself to attack the man, chewing his head in a loud reticence, splashing red blood and bone fragments onto the carpet. William waited until the demon had finished eating before continuing down the manor's aisle.

Usually the demon just sucked blood, but lately the movement is getting wild, making William a little worried. He managed to deceive other demons, who were apparently human-like, when he escaped from Scholomance; but that doesn't mean that he got used to the presence of a demon. He never gets used to it.

The legend of Scholomance is true. William is the source of his life. He sent his nine friends away from there and left his own shadow to outsmart the demon. But the story doesn't stop there. The devil does not like to be deceived. He sent one of his shadows to follow William as a memento. Eye mark of the devil school.

Despite responding to his call and appearing whenever he was in danger or whenever William wanted to, the demon attached to him had no name, nor could he be invited to communicate. William had tried to get her to talk a hundred times, but there was always no reply.

Desire to talk to others. It was because of that desire that he lent his necklace to someone else. He also told the secret of life to others. It's stupid because that guy was a traitor. He should have known that man was always a traitor, like he betrayed the demon Scholomance. Everything revolves in its own karma.

His shoes stopped in front of a magnificent wooden door painted in wine red. William stuck his ear to the wood and closed his eyes, listening. There's a breath in there. The man he was looking for had not left. The man was still here, inside his manor, hiding like a cornered rat. William distanced the body, opening the door with both hands. The heavy wood swung inward without a sound. Bright room. All the lights are on, the windows are wide open.

"Finally you arrive, Will," the voice made William turn to the side.

Duke Ashington was there, in front of the bedroom window. The morning sunlight doused his brown hair in a golden luster, making it at first glance seem like embers.

Frederick Ashington wore bright fancy clothes with silk and velvet decorations, like a prince, making William a little regret not dressing better before leaving. He went straight to Aston as soon as he got his necklace back.

"Frits," William stepped forward without being distracted by the sunlight. He opened his arms to hug, but Duke Ashington moved backwards.

"You got rid of the demon just got closer" the man used a commanding tone. One hand stretched forward with the gesture holding back. "I don't want his sharp, smelly teeth touching my silk robe."

William only realized the demon was still behind him, this time taking the form of a tiger head and gorilla body. The waist down side vanished in black particles that coiled up like a puff of smoke. The sight of the empty black eyes was fixed, making the terrible form decompose into blackish powder and disappear. There was no word spoken, but he knew the demon understood what he wanted. The devil is under his control.

William looked back at Duke Ashington, who had now placed himself in the sitting room. The man still looked as fresh and young as a man in his thirties. His body was firm, his young face fresh.

William sniffed, catching the scent of women in this room. A few different smells. "You having fun here, Frits?" chortled.

Duke Ashington shrugged one shoulder, casually pouring wine into two glass glasses. "Life must be enjoyed" he said. His eyes glanced sharply, full of judgment. "That's what you do, too, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Don't worry, I didn't come to criticize you."

Duke Ashington shifted his gaze out of the room, towards the corpses that appeared from the opening of the door. Wry smile. "Of course, I can see it. How are you, Will? Your demon still doesn't want to talk?"

William smiled faintly. He sat down opposite Duke Ashington, receiving a wine glass raised to him.

"Where do you know I'm here?" The Duke began, clearly trying to make his tone sound uncaring.

"I've known for a long time" said William calmly, taking a sip of his wine. Sweet. Too sweet. "I'm just putting off a visit. You know what my priorities are."

Duke Ashington ignored the innuendo contained in the last sentence. He took out a cigar, opened his mouth to call the waiter, but then realized no one was coming, so he cut off the cigar tip himself and lit it clumsily.

"The necklace is alive" he said. "He has his own desires, desires that neither you nor I can grant."

"And by throwing it at a lowly baron, you're granting my necklace wishes?"

"It's not yours" Duke Ashington said. "Do you see what that thing did to me?" He placed the cigar to remove the silk glove, exposing the cracked fingertips of the charred. His fingers smelled of rotten wood.

"It's not because of my necklace, but because your time limit is up." William poured more wine into his glass. "We're just gonna gather as many people as we need to extend your life."

William stared at the medallion necklace that had been in his grasp ever since. Every time his eyes reached the broken bulge in the back valve, his blood was always boiling. He hoped Jose Argent would die to be torn apart by the undead. He hoped that the young man would die suffering and in a very slow way. "Do you think that's what you're trying to do to make Scholomance?" It distracts. "To get a stock of lives?"

Duke Ashington snorted as if the plan had never been considered. "I made it just for the money. My gold starts to ludes." A bitter laughter slid from her red lips. "Of course the dead can't get funds from the palace. I can't possibly suddenly appear in front of my distant niece and ask for a ration, right?"

William nodded slowly. Money is always a problem. Even he had experienced economic difficulties in the early days out of Romania. Everything was resolved after he started to buy a little bit of art or collect academic literature and keep it for several hundred years. The junk items suddenly became valuable and worth a lot, although there are also those that remain as garbage. Later he became close to the previous royal family and got the title of Sir thanks to his contributions in literature and art. It managed to make his wallet quite fat.

"Why don't you hide in your pur in Bjork?" William's curious. "You know I can't find you there, right?"

"On that mosquito-filled, gloomy mountain? There's nothing in that dark place, then where's the living one?" Duke Ashington flicked his hands around the room. Proud face. "Here I can see everything in vivid colors. People don't know me anymore, but I still get good service and they respect me, thinking I'm my own distant relative. Here I can see the progress of the times, see sophisticated cars and beautiful women with thick eggs." He grimaces. "Women who are willing to do anything because they crave the title of Lady."

"You haven't changed, Frits." William drank his wine. This conversation made him long for old memories. They used to talk all night long, without sleep, drunk with pleasure and the satisfaction of endless longevity. The eternal life.

"You haven't changed either, Will," Duke Ashington replied, showing off his fang-like little hunch. "You're stuck in a repetition. You think by repeating back what you've been through with him—even though with someone else's body, then he can come back. Though not. Arabella's dead, and there's nothing you can do to bring her back to life."

"Can." William slammed his glass into the table and got up. He doesn't like it when other people say the name Arabella. The name was sacred to him. "Died one more time. One more time then he'll come back to me, I can feel it. It's getting stronger every day."

"Who said?" The Duke chuckled, there was a sad tone tucked in there. "Your demon word that never speaks? That's been sticking to you like a parasite since you escaped Scholomance?"

"You'll see the evidence for yourself if you don't get in my way!" William growling. His fingers are raised. "Because of you, now I only have one chance. One eclipse! The closest place is Bjork! I don't even have time to look for another pride! What did you get out of this, Frits? Is this your reward for everything I've done for you?"

"I want to wake you up!" Duke Ashington sucked his cigar deep. The smell of cinnamon was all around them. "You tricked the devil, Will. He just wants more lives, all this will be for nothing. You'll realize it"

"Is this longevity and youthfulness you've gained in vain?" reply William cold. "You see the evidence for yourself, you enjoy the results yourself!"

"What result!" Duke exclaims. Fingers trembling. The sunlight did not even help to remove the pale look on his face. "I feel like every time I see it .. see your ritual .. I'm reminded that we're not human. We sacrifice a lot of people .. a lot of lives .. for that thing .. I don't know. I feel like I'm going crazy." He blinked, letting a single tear flow down. "It's not the kind of life I want. And Arabella won't like it either."

William took a deep breath. "I didn't come to hear this" he said patiently. "I thought .. You owe me an apology."

"Because it made me like this?!" Duke Ashington raised both hands, showing off his crumbling fingers. Breath hunting. He throws a cigar at William, who dodges easily. "Because it reminds me that I should be dead? Every time I make friends, they quickly die leaving me, they ... humans."

Ungrateful. Humans are really ungrateful. William clenched his hands tightly. The black particles evaporated out of his body in faint specks that grew increasingly dense, rolling violently like a storm. The speck clustered without sound, the longer the more concentrated, flying mobat-mabit to the roof of the room. William oversaw the change in Duke Ashington's face. Pelipis. Even though he had called out to the devil many times, the sensation still bothered him. It felt like there was a large plaster removed from the skin of his back. Painful.

Duke Ashington was still sitting quietly on his single sofa, crossing his legs with the voice of a noble. The man glanced at the wine glasses on the table. His forehead is deep. "You can just let me go" he said softly. He observed his blackened and fractured fingers at the ends like an wasteland. "I'll be dead any minute. Maybe in a few decades, if it's strong."

"We live in repetition" William reminded coldly. The wisp of particles had already opened the gates of hell, giving rise to the wild beast-headed demon. He could feel the breath of the beast, hear the sounds of the cries of the sin of man called out in full judgment, and the sensation of his appearance that set up the feather of Rome. "If I let you, wouldn't you stab me in the back?"

"At least .. I want to die at the hands of a friend" Duke Ashington said without looking anywhere. He pointed at the sword on the wall. "Do it with your own hands, Will. If you ever consider me a friend, don't feed me to your demons."

William grimacing. He thought he could no longer feel hurt after living for hundreds of years. But he was wrong. It was like being slashed and sprinkled with acid. "I wish you'd asked for it without alerting your whole people to kill me." His eyes stared at the empty wine glass on the table, recalling its suspicious sweetness. "I wish you'd asked for it without putting poison on my wine glass."

Duke Ashington looked down. "Willy," he whispered trembling, trying to persuade.

William turned around with both hands linked behind his back. He raised his chin high. His demons darted out in a fast second, leaving behind only a gust of wind and black powder like ash.

"Willy, I'm doing this for you!"

The sound of bone crumbling and flesh being ripped up echoed in the room, accompanied by the long screams of Frederick Ashington.

William looked out the window, then at the disfigured medallion. His blue eyes are wet.

***