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“Tristan informed you about her before me, didn’t he?” I ask.
“Sure.” His poker face springs pure irritation. One day I’ll punch him. Ideally to death. “What’s your plan?” he asks.
“Lure.”
He raises his eyebrows. “No hunting?”
“She’s a snake and therefore, a better stalker than me. I’ll wait until she comes on her own.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
I shrug. “Then I will have to make her lose at her own game.”
The bloodhounds erupt in mad barks. The Dobermans sprint to the sound with their signal aggressive one.
‘Release Mae in the forest, and have the Dobermans rip her to shreds.’ Aunt’s frosty voice slows my pace.
‘I have done that before. It’s quite entertaining,’ Father says.
I thought I’m the one who’s supposed to kill her.
‘We’re only laying down options to make her death more interesting.’ Aunt’s voice takes a gentle firm tone, the one she used to scold us with as children.
Dylan’s shout pulls me from the c
onversation with my demons. “This one is mine!”
Wind scurries ahead of us in a renewed chase, the clinks of his hoofs and the waving of his long, thick tail mocking me.
“We won’t lose, Jet,” I murmur with a caress to his neck, before kicking him. “Go!”
The hunt lasts longer than we expect. I lose by two targets. Only because I run out of knives.
The last deer twitches on the ground after Dylan shot it in the leg. The animal’s frantic eyes search around, as if there’s an exit between the hounds surrounding it. Blood gushes from its wound, but the deer still struggles to a standing position.
It’s like Mae. She’s frightened out of her mind but insists on rebelling and faking courage. What’s the point if she’s going to lose anyway? She will always be the deer about to be ripped apart.
“Eat,” I say.
In a single leap, a dozen of my Dobermans jumps the animal, fangs sinking into its fur. They ready to rip out chunks of meat when a loud shot rings in the air.
“Halt!” Dylan shouts from a distance, and the Dobermans retreat back. He clicks his rifle again, and with another shot ends the trembling deer’s misery.
My left eye twitches. The bastard ruined my fun.
‘So you’re considering the idea,’ Aunt and Father say at the same time.
Yes, demons. It’s a tempting one.
. . . . .
The solace of the grey darkness allays my thoughts as I walk the dungeons’ corridors. The supplies and food I’m carrying should keep Mae alive.
Will I find her crying?
The first crack to her unavoidable decimation will be a mesmerising view. If I let the hounds or the jaguars shred her apart, I suspect it would present a similar pleasure contrast to tormenting her with her fear of darkness. She should’ve never expressed her weakness in front of me.
Although the logical thing is to let her rot in there for a few more days, I can’t seem to stay away.
