CHAPTER 45: TRAITOR II

Everyone in the room went still. Even Viviane’s golden eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief.

In their minds, by this world rule, humans were weak. They were mosquitoes to be crushed, deer to be hunted.

Yet there was nothing weak about the aura surrounding Seamus. He did not resemble a human or even a vampire. He was something else entirely, and it was terrifying.

Eve was the first to react. Blood spilled down her arms as two swords pushed free from her flesh.

Her skin hardened, turning rough and stone-like as her body shifted into an unbreakable form. A mutant blood style.

"What the fuck! How? How did you do that!" she screamed, swinging the blades with a snarl. Her movements, however, were heavy and sluggish, slowed by the strain of her own mutation.

Seamus smirked. To him, she moved in slow motion. He was stronger now, sharper, and it was all thanks to Isolde.

Before her blades could touch him, he stepped back, grabbed her fiery orange hair, and slammed her head into the floor. The impact tore through the wood and stone, leaving a crater in the ground.

It was fortunate this was only the first floor.

"You... what are you?" Eve gasped, her broken face straining to lift.

"A human."

He didn’t plan to hide anymore, not after every vampire knew that he was a Crimson Nectar. He needs to show them who’s the boss, so they won’t hunt him so carelessly.

And more importantly, it was for Viviane.

She smirked through the blood. "Lie. I can see it. In your eyes. That red glow inside your green. A human cannot do this."

"You talk too much." His voice was flat, detached. He smashed her face into the floor again and again. Her blood poured out, thick and black, its stench foul and unnatural.

Seamus had no patience for her. His eyes searched for Viviane. She had not moved to help him, had not raised her hand against the others.

She only stood there with that same distant expression, untouchable and unreadable.

’What happened to you, Viviane? What changed? Was it me?’

His thoughts broke when a blade slashed toward his eyes. Eve, desperate and half-broken, had struck with a knife hidden on her knuckles. The edge grazed his cheek.

"Tch." He wiped the blood with his hand, crimson smearing across his skin. Eve laughed, her reptilian irises wide with manic delight.

"You are right. You are just a human after all. Interesting. So very interesting."

Seamus gave her no reply. He called upon a single drop of his blood and shaped it into Somnius Spores. Eve inhaled the drifting haze and collapsed instantly into sleep.

Seamus rose slowly to his feet. His eyes found Viviane again. "Come home with me, Viviane."

She did not move. "You should go, Seamus. I still have something to do."

Once again she wore that expression he could not decipher. It was not anger or sorrow or tenderness. It was something else hidden deep in her golden eyes.

Before he could press her further, he felt it. The air shifted. Ten maids appeared at the edges of the hall, their faces blank, their eyes empty.

Faint red strings bound their limbs and pulled at their bodies like a puppeteer’s threads.

Seamus narrowed his eyes, trying to trace the source. The maids moved before he could find it. Their steps were jerky, unnatural, but knives already gleamed in their hands.

"Shit."

He could read their movements with perfect clarity, every slash and lunge as if the world slowed down around him.

Yet avoiding them all at once was another matter. His body lacked the skill of a trained fighter.

Each dodge was awkward, sloppy, the desperate movements of someone outmatched. And still the blades kept coming.

Seamus twisted to the side, but not fast enough. A blade carved across his ribs, hot pain spreading as blood soaked through his shirt. He gritted his teeth, barely holding back a cry as another maid lunged at him from behind.

"Fuck! Fight fairly, damn it!"

He caught her wrist, forcing the knife away, but another slash caught his arm. He staggered, his vision swimming, his body failing to keep up.

There were too many.

"Seamus! Just stop it!" Viviane screamed, her voice etched in worry.

"You come with me and stop whatever you will do! And I will stop!" His fists connected with a jaw, snapping it sideways.

He shoved a knee into another’s stomach and wrenched her knife free, using her own momentum to drive the blade into her throat. The girl dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

Seamus spun, slashing at another, cutting deep through her collarbone. Black blood spilled out, the same unnatural taint that marked them as vampires.

Still they came. Empty eyes, jerky movements. Ten bodies trying to tear him apart, even the one he already defeated. They were just like an undead.

’This will never end... I need to find the source. Is it that sissy, Alastair? Lulu or that one lolita girl?’ he couldn’t follow the threads since he was too busy with these monsters!

Seamus struck down a third, then a fourth, but not without cost. Another knife pierced his shoulder, the sharp sting making him stumble.

He tore it free, blood running hot down his arm, and buried it in the chest of the attacker in front of him. His breaths grew ragged, his arms heavy, but he refused to stop.

Half of them lay on the floor,not moving anymore, but his body was breaking.

’Is this the limit of the user?’ he thought.

His vision blurred, as the maids stopped to let him catch a breath, he saw it. The strings.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing beyond the chaos. The red threads pulled tight, stretching back toward the far corner of the room.

They all led to the porcelain doll of a girl—the one in the frilled white dress who had been silent all this time. Stella.

The threads did not float openly. They slipped into her clothing, hidden beneath lace and ruffles, tucked away so neatly that he had not noticed before.

She had been pulling them the entire time, directing the maids like a child playing with her toys.

Seamus’ lips curled into a bloody grin.

He ripped a knife from the limp hand of one fallen maid and steadied himself, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

This was his last resort since all five of the maids suddenly moved to stab him. With the last of his strength, he hurled it straight at Stella.

The blade spun through the air and found its mark, cutting into her chest. Stella’s eyes widened, her doll-like expression shattering for the first time.

She cried out, clutching her wound as the red threads snapped and dissolved into mist.

"You! Filthy pig! Tasteless wretch! How dare you—"

Before she could finish, Seamus hurled another knife. It struck her mouth with brutal precision.

Stella gasped, black blood spilling down her chin in a thick, foul stream before she collapsed. Dead or alive, he did not care.

Around him the maids crumpled. Knives slipped from their hands and clattered across the floor. One by one they fell where they stood, still breathing but unconscious, released from the strings that had bound them.

Seamus stood in the silence that followed, his chest heaving, his breath ragged. His wounds burned, blood soaking through his clothes, and his body trembled from exhaustion.

Yet his eyes never left Viviane. They locked on her as if demanding an answer.

"This... is this what you want?" His voice broke with anger and disappointment.

"Seamus..." Viviane stepped toward him slowly.

She would not meet his gaze. Instead, she reached for his hand, her touch gentle, almost tender. It quieted the storm inside him, even as his heart screamed in protest. For a moment he let himself hope, maybe this would change her mind.

"I told you to stop this. Why are you doing all of this for?" His jaw clenched, words rough and strained.

"Do you really think killing your mother will end anything?"

The thought had haunted him from the beginning. What deal had Viviane struck with Madeline? Was it the same one Madeline had offered him?

"It will," she said firmly. Her eyes lifted to his at last, burning with determination. "It will end my suffering. And it will end yours."

His breath caught. At that moment he understood—it was too late. There was no convincing her.

Before he could move, his body locked up. His muscles stiffened, refusing his will.

From the corner of his eye he saw them: thin, red strings creeping into his flesh, threading themselves into his arm that comes from his beloved girlfriend.

Viviane’s voice trembled. "I’m so sorry, Seamus."