+ 1.12: Waiting, Anticipating

Azaria was arguing with Jared about his proposition to go to the police and seek witness protection. She knew there was no escaping Davrin: he’d find her eventually. The only way out was death; most likely her own. She imagined him sitting in the darkness of the library with only the blazing fire to illuminate the room. She could feel his anger rising inside of him like an agitated cobra waiting to strike. 

Jared held her hands firmly but gently trying to convince her that she couldn’t go on suffering in silence but all she did was shake her head profusely. She had never backed down from anything. But not knowing what kind of monster they were dealing with only made her more fearful; more reluctant to really leave.  

She finally looked up at him, her lip trembling. She saw something reflected in the iris of his eyes and he saw the fear flash in hers. A cold draught swept through the room chilling Azaria to the bone. If she didn’t know she was standing in the middle of a crowded bar she would have sworn that she had just plunged bare-naked into an icy black pool. His presence was strong and foreboding. And there was no escaping him now. She closed her eyes readying herself for whatever would come next.  

She had a vision of him dealing her a tight slap across her face. She could even feel the burning in her cheeks and she raised her hand to her face to make sure. She imagined him ripping her to shreds then and there, her blood spilling over the wooden floors leaving a permanent stain. And then he would turn on the rest; leaving no witnesses. But he was smarter than that. 

Her eyes shot open. She turned around but he wasn’t there. Jared was shaking her snapping his fingers in front of her face. “You okay?” He asked. She nodded. She must have zoned out. No one else seemed to take note of the coldness enveloping the bar. She was the only one who felt it.  

Back at the mansion

“Sir, it has been six hours. It isn’t like you to leave her unattended for so long.” Jeeves pointed out cautiously.  

“Let her have her fun.” He pressed the tips of his fingers together and closed his eyes. “She’ll return.” He was confident in this belief. And when she did return he’d show her exactly what he was capable of. He had even made the effort to plant images in her mind – to give her a glimpse of what would come her way. He made sure she knew he would find her eventually.

He allowed himself to sink into the comfortable armchair. He glanced out the window. It was a dark cloudy night: perfect for a hunt. But he was in no mood. The girl had aggravated him too much for him to partake in a night of debauchery and bloodsucking with unsuspecting women. He decided to rest for a while when there came a knock on the front door.