All material © Rebecca Rhielle
Isadora lunged forward, thrusting the sword into the chained vampire for what seemed like the hundredth time. He cried out in agony, and she watched indifferently as his skin knitted itself back together within seconds. Looking back and forth between the two restrained guards, she found herself wishing their race didn’t heal quite so quickly. It was terribly difficult to get satisfactory torture results when dealing with immortals.
This is becoming tedious, she thought sadly. They couldn’t carry out a simple death order, and now they can’t even keep me entertained. Ah, well…everything outlives its usefulness, I suppose.
“You are no longer serve any purpose for me,” she told her prisoners. Gregor opened his mouth to protest, but Isadora whirled around with the sword, beheading both of them in one swing.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, addressing the head that was now rolling across the stone floor. “Were you going to say something? No? Alright then.”
Dropping the bloodied sword to the ground with a clatter, she turned to her new set of guards.
“Clean up this filth, and then draw me a bath. I need to soak away this stress.”
Inspired by the example made of their predecessors, they scurried to obey, leaving Isadora to pout in the great oak chair at the head of her rooms.
Why does everyone fail me? First that sniveling Hunter, and then my own guards! What does a girl have to do to get good minions?
As she was imagining all the wonderful ways she would torture Rolf and his family when she found them, her new sentries entered the rooms and announced that her bath had been readied.
Isadora sauntered out the side door to the washroom and her gilded tub, pausing to give each of them a lingering kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, loves. Now go on back to…well…whatever it is that you do when you’re not serving me. I will ring if the need arises.”
Bowing low, they turned and exited the room, and Isadora was again alone with her thoughts and the sumptuous feel of warm water on bare skin. Closing her eyes as she laid back against the edge of the tub, she reached out with her mind, attempting to eavesdrop on her four little rogues. Locating them easily – and clucking her tongue at their folly of leaving their minds open – she wormed her way into their conversation as she lounged.
Absently she listened to Dimitri, Tannis and Aurelius plotting their futile insurrection, but quickly found it boring. Searching again, she came to Elspeth, lying on the bed and sobbing.
What’s this? Isadora thought with delight.
Our little newling is upset? She grinned wide. How tragic.
Probing into Elspeth’s thoughts, she quickly surmised the cause of her tears.
The gypsy girl? She’s in love with a Hunter? Oh, that’s rich. I knew she was stupid, but this?
She laughed as she sunk lower into the bath, reveling in Elspeth’s heartache and finding it the perfect balm to calm her nerves. A wicked idea popped into her head then, and her eyes flew open at the sheer genius of it.
Oh, yes, Isadora thought with excitement, this is just too easy…