Chapter 26 DISPUTATION

NARRATIVE POINT OF VIEW

Growing fearsome, Lord Castledow made his way out onto the balcony. Away from the suffocating people and away from the dominating presence of the Viscount. He held his stomach. He felt like throwing up the moment they met eyes. His hideous smile irked him, but more than that, he got petrified.

“How can I do this?” he asked himself, a subtle sound then ringed his ears. Right there in the cold front, a woman sitting on a lap of man whimpers, as they share a private moment not do be done in such place. Lord Castledow quickly fled. He frantically stepped away, as he realized that it was the playful Damon Campbell making out with a woman in the middle of a funeral.

He ought to get close to him as Ezekiel says so. It was one of his first tasks, but he couldn’t simply do that. Just like the Reeves, Lord Castledow knows who’s the next victim. He got to the hall, exchanging stares with the other nobles as he eyed him again. Viscount Claude is currently having a serious talk with the Duke, and he for sure had ill intentions.

Seven days passed briefly. Amidst the hectic bustles, the Reeves finally achieved a full pledged proposition. Ezekiel walked atop a platform, staring his men down with dignity. A wooden board patched with conceptual arrangements stood before him. It had strings and pictures attached, all leading up to him.

He started with a heave, mildly configuring what he has to say as the attentive eyes of 20 or so men focuses. “As the fore member of our family, I, Ezekiel Reeves shall initiate the last hunt,” he smiled curtly, making his men stunned, as he’s usually a serious man. “23 years ago, my uncle, Lawson Reeves failed to capture Lawrence Vatcherun, or as we know today, Viscount Claude.”

The memories of the stories told by his father played as he talked about it, it canned him with certainty. “But now that I am here as the leader, mistakes won’t be tolerated.” He put on a brave face and walked across the platform, straight to the table placed in the middle. “Losing the heir of Bridgeton because of the grudge the Reeves holds for the noble regiment is extremely unforgivable…” he placed his hand atop the “Some of you may have the same sentiments as the members before us, but with my Father’s ideologies…” he grabbed one of the guns he developed and pointed it towards them “I ought to implement her rescue.”

One of them stood. “how are you certain that he kept her alive?” he asked.

“I just know he will, ” he said, confirming the fact that they know her whereabouts. He smirked “I am positive that he’ll be soiling his pants before the ball starts tomorrow.”

Agatha skimmed around his office, dusting the library books as he reads in a corner. His glasses gleamed upon feeling something. He stood up and walked towards the windows. He eyed the street, it was nowhere near visible because of the fog but he can feel them. He chuckled, “perhaps they think I’ve grown weak”

His confidence gets the better of him most of the time, but it’s a peculiarity caused by something else. He turned his back against the window, crossing his arms and staring at Agatha. Reveries played.

There are things they know about him, but it's far insignificant to those they don’t. He ought to live forever embracing them. For the first time, he thought that the curse the leader has put upon him is a blessing. He stepped towards Agatha, ogling behind her as he slid his hands atop her waist, making her startled. She looked back and was greeted with a deep kiss. She gaped a little, feeling his tongue attempting to enter.

Dropping the duster unconsciously, she succumbed to another wince. He giggled, pulling away with a tepid grin. “You’re enjoying yourself too much” he commented. Agatha smiled shyly. “perhaps…”

Viscount Claude sighed, tightening his grip, he called her name “Agatha…”

“yes, Viscount?”

“You’ll be coming with me tomorrow”

She was speechless, all she could do was open her mouth widely. It has been a couple of weeks, nearing a month, but this might be the first time he proposed something she’d never dare refuse. “y-you mean… in the Campbell’s Ball?” she asked, expecting that it isn’t something else.

He nodded with amusement; he had noticed it first-hand. Agatha has always dreamt of living life like a noble, a ball especially a grand one, would certainly be on her list of things she want to experience. “d-does this mean you trust me now?”

He nodded once more, bringing his hand to her face and brushing it gently. She smiled sincerely for the first time in front of him, enough to daze his consciousness. “but I’ve nothing to wear…” she suddenly came to respond.

“Have no worries…” he said and leaned closer “I got you the grandest ball gown I found” was his words before yielding into another kiss, this time, a passionate one that ended up in the bedroom. He ought to yield probity, as he has a need for her to be there.

The morning came, it should've been a special day because of the ball but the Viscount’s turbulence blared. He grits his teeth in anger, harshly throwing the newspaper, shattering some ornaments. Agatha stood nervously by the side as she watches him rage. Ever since their deal, this is the first time he saw him like this. His figure shows as he had his torso exposed, eyes glitching with bloodiness and claws fumbling with anger. His gaze slid beyond her, making her jolt in fear. He marched towards her and abruptly held her wrist. “V-viscount?” she asked.

“Lend me your strength,” his deep voice vented hunger. She knew what he’s hinting. She was about to array her neck open, but he kneeled instead. “they’ll see if I bit you there” he said, lifting her dress and holding her legs. He brought his fangs out and made a heap, piercing her thighs and sucking the calming fluid. Agatha closed her eyes out of the subtle pain. Biting her lips and eyeing the floor, she came across the paper. She gaped a little, seeing the headline about the death of her master.

'Lady Irene reported to be missing. Lord Castledow to name the suspect in a briefing tomorrow'