Fit

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa found herself awake and wondered when that had happened. She stretched, grunting with pleasure from the action, and in the process pushed off the silk sheet covering her. Her short-sleeved silk pajama shirt was tangled up to the point they partially choked her. She shifted it around sleepily and looked at the window. No light shone past the dark shades and she guessed it to be deep into the night; what time, who knew.

She groaned aloud when she realized why she was waking up in the middle of the night. A vampire and another battlemage had been her guests. Wonderful.

They could wait. She tramped into the large bathroom adjoining the master bedroom and took a long, languishing bath. She came out smelling like vanilla, her favorite scent, and put on plain clothes underneath her battlemage armor. Tugging on her red leather gloves, she unlocked the door—it relieved her quite a lot to find it still locked—and went into the hall. It was very silent in the house; perhaps the pair had already left. Somehow the thought rankled her, and she gritted her teeth angrily. She knocked on the door to the guest bedroom and when there was no answer she went inside. Nothing but a wrinkled, untidy bed. She frowned. Why hadn't the maid cleaned everything up once he left? She'd have to slap some sense into that girl when she found her.

Then she headed downstairs. The further she went, the more she sniffed the air. There was a... smell. Something faint and recognizable, but what it was eluded her.

Frowning with perplexity, she went straight for the kitchen. When she first looked inside, her gut wrenched. The smell was stronger, but still rather faint. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the person at the table. Ryxa gagged and stumbled back from the doorway. She didn't stop until her back slammed into the wall opposite and a trembling hand was covering her mouth to suppress a cry. A whimper came out instead.

The corpse was wearing her—Ryxa's—clothing.

Her mind raced wildly. She knew that those clothes had been in her closet. She remembered them being there when she changed into her pajamas. Her heart was thumping wildly, her breaths suddenly coming in ragged gasps. They were the only sounds in the suddenly chilly house. She slowly walked back to the doorway of the lifeless kitchen. There, spilled food on the table... A mostly-empty bowl of curdling broth. Her brow furrowed at the evidence of two people who had eaten. Who else had been in her house?

She hissed at no one and stomped into the room. She walked past the corpse, repressing a shiver, and wrenched open the reinforced door. There was little light; the fire had died down to cinders. She wondered how long it had been since they had left. Realizing there was no way for her to see, she went and got a candle and came back. Without hardly thinking the candle erupted into flame. She stood on the top stair and stared down.

The manservant. The smell was stronger than in the kitchen; perhaps from the enclosed space, or perhaps because he had been dead longer. She stared at his lifeless form. His wrist was torn up, blood drenching his whole lower arm. Blood was splattered on the dirty stone floor. His mostly-nude body was thrown haphazardly across the floor. He was wearing the clothing she used for prisoners and they were filthy, too.

That damned little RAT was nowhere to be found.

“DAMMIT!” Ryxa screamed and punched the wall. Pain surged up her arm, but she ignored it. She turned from the dingy cell and back into the kitchen. “DAMMIT!” she screamed again, hurtling the candle. Luckily the flame went out as it flew, until it hit the wall and fell to the floor. It rolled back until it hit the leg of the chair in which the maid sat, and stopped.

Ryxa looked at the maid's cold, sagging face, the face which had been so often concerned or confused. She was just a young woman earning money the only way she had known how. Ryxa hissed at the empty air again.

Nic wouldn't have done this. She knew who had.

Ryxa walked up to the corpse and, with shaking fingers, closed the maid's eyes. She then fingered her shirt which should be upstairs in her room. The message was obvious. Ryxa gulped and sat in the chair closest to the maid. There was spilled oats on the table and she looked at it miserably.

Hiring new servants was such a pain.

The oats were cold, and by the state of things it appeared they had left hours ago. She wasn't sure what she would have done if they had still been here. Tried to kill Jenica? Over some servants? No, it was a personal affront. She had let them into her home, and this was the treatment her kindness had gotten her. If she EVER saw that little fanged bitch again...!

This was going to take awhile to clean up. She had no wish to go after them; they could sniff around like the dogs of the Judges they were for all she cared. Probably, they would find Chrishton first. Good luck, she silently thought—sarcastically.