Beatrice looked over her shoulder and saw an exquisitely clothed man escorted by several guards. He wore a brown fedora hat and held a lion embellished wood and gold cane in his right hand.

“King Marius. I see you’ve been striding in on my dwelling like you are at yours once again,” Beatrice chuckled, "But I’m glad to know you find our coven quite comfortable.”

“What nicer place to live in than here, hidden away from preyful eyes, my Lady?” Marius smirked.

“Mm,” Beatrice hummed, only smiling at him despite picking up his sardonic notion.

“Anyways, do not worry. This won’t take long." Marius circled the body on the floor. "I’m only here to see if you are keeping your end of the bargain. There are only two weeks left. I hope everything is in preparation.”

“Oh, such an insult.” Beatrice tucked a strand of her long hair away from her face. “I am quite a diligent person, King Marius.”

“Please do not misinterpret my words, milady. I am only ensuring that everything will go according to what we have planned.”

“Then do not fret,” Beatrice said, grabbing a cloth her servant gave and wiping the bloodstain on her hands. “You need only to play out your part, and we would do the rest.”

Marius grinned. “Then I’ll take your word for it.”

“What about you?” Beatrice tilted her head and smiled at him. Marius raised a brow at her. “I’m quite one for flashy and extravagant parties. I hope that masquerade ball of yours would suit my liking.”

“Pay no heed. The event might exceed even your expectations.”

“Mmm,"  Beatrice hummed. "I think it will.”

Suddenly, Ratt came scampering towards them. “L-lady Beatrice,” he called. Beatrice and Marius turned their heads and stared at him. “W-we got another visitor, milady.” 

Beatrice raised a brow, prodding a curious gaze. She then heard screams, which echoed louder and louder. Four vampire guards cloaked in silver armors walked into the room, each of their steps clunking against the unfinished stone floor. Two of them held a bloodied and bruised man trashing in their hold, a spiked shackle on his neck.

“I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll fucking kill each and every one of you!” the man roared.

“Lady Beatrice, we found him sniffing around,” one of the newly arrived guards said as he closed the distance between them. “He’s one of them.”

“Well, well,” Beatrice mused. She walked towards the scene-maker and gestured at her men, who then forced him to kneel by kicking the back of his knee. 

Beatrice slowly circled the man. The man trashed as she brushed her fingers across his collarbone, then to the back of his head. Beatrice stared at the scar carved below his nape.

CXVIII

“Welcome back—”

Beatrice flinched when the man whipped his head around and spat, his spit landing on her robe. The guards then pummeled the man.

Beatrice clenched her jaw while she stared at the spit on her clothes. Marius, on the other hand, was silently enjoying the scene with a grin on his face. Beatrice looked back up and watched the man get trashed with her soulless eyes. A few moments later, she raised a hand, stopping the guards from beating the weakened werewolf.

Despite his purplish and swollen eye, the fury in the werewolf's eyes continued to burn. "Esti... facut din laba si cacat de muste in pizda ma-tii," he panted. "You... damned bitch... fucking rot in hell.”

“Aw, you hurt me and my late mother with such barks,” Beatrice said, slightly fluttering her robe.

 “You’ll all burn in hell,” the werewolf continued.

Beatrice chuckled. “Aren't we already?” she hummed, tilting her head. She then stared at the guards holding him. They grinned.

“I'll piss on your corpses—" the man said while he was violently brought up, "—once we catch you again.” 

A wild grin appeared on Beatrice's face, and she laughed. "I'll be waiting for that day to come then." She gestured, and the man began getting dragged away. Beatrice halted one of the guards following. “Don’t kill him,” she said. “Make him beg like the mutt he is.”

The corner of the guard’s lips lifted. “As you wish, my lady.”

Just then, while being dragged away, the werewolf saw Marius. His swollen green eyes widened. “... You?” he breathed out, his expression of utter disbelief. His face then twisted more in anger. “You damned traitor!” he yelled. “So this is the real purpose of wanting an alliance with us!”

King Marius only grinned at him.

“Shut your trap and move, mongrel—”

The werewolf slammed himself against the guard. He elbowed another one on his right, then kicked the one on the back. 

A commotion erupted in the room. Swerving hands and bodies came to chase the werewolf. The corners of Beatrice’s mouth arched high, her smile broad and disturbing. 

The werewolf raced in Beatrice and Marius’ direction. But before he could reach them, a silver mace was hurled on his head. He was sent flying before he crashed to the floor. A guard then ran to him and struck him over and over and over again... until he passed out, marks unusual for a werefolk being left on his body.

Marius and Beatrice watched as the unconscious werewolf was dragged away.

“Such ferocity your dog holds,” Marius commented.

“He had strayed far too long away from his chains, that’s why.”

“Then I guess it’s time to bring them back in.”

"I shall." Beatrice hummed.

Just then, Marius’s eyes traveled across the series of iron bars, where men and women covered in grime were kept. The captives watched them, fear evident in their eyes.

“... Which one is more ferocious?” Marius asked.

“Hm?” Beatrice slightly tilted her head. She gazed at him, then at the captives, then gave an arched, somewhat eerie smile. “Would you like to know?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, though. “Turn a couple of them,” she said to her men. 

The armored guards started to move, and wild cries echoed throughout the place, even parring the noise beyond the heavy door at the end, where inhuman shrieks arose. 

“Silence!”

The captives still wept.

“Keep them yapping to yourself!” 

The guards banged at the bars with their weapons and began to open cages. They dragged people out of their cells and shackled their necks in linked iron chokers. Marius watched a guard yank a woman. She wore a lovely yet tattered dirty white dress and a pair of missing leather shoes. She bawled, hysterically trying to claw through the guard’s gauntlets while he pulled her by her long messy brown hair across the floor. She begged, but ha sea of wails drowned out her screams.

Marius turned from where he stood. “Heavily curious as I may be, I do not want to ruin the surprise so early,” he said to Beatrice. “I’ll be taking my leave for now.”

Beatrice hummed.

“I will be expecting your presence in the next two weeks, my Lady.”

“As will I,” Beatrice replied. 

Marius then walked away with a couple of Beatrice’s guards leading him back down the long hall where they came from. A whimsical smile slid on the corner of the woman's lips when he was gone. She emitted a suppressed cackle behind her pursed lips, excitement showing through her cold blood and wide eyes. Marius' naiveness was just too comical. She'd enjoy ripping his ego later on.

A few moments later, Beatrice decided to go back to her chamber, deaf to the commotion, the soles of her shoes hallowed by the screams that erupted from behind her.