Chapter 30: Old Wounds
"But
I'd be much obliged if you'd take your sense of humor elsewhere." Vincent
Valentine
Come into these arms again "Love Song For a Vampire"
And lay your body down
For
'tis the rhythm of this trembling heart
Is beating like a drum.
It beats
for you, it bleeds for you
It knows not how it sounds.
For it is the drum
of drums
It is the song of songs.
Annie Lennox
Vincent sat in a chair beside Yuffie's bed, cleaning the Outsider
absently with a rag Kyra had given him and trying not to look at the clock that
hung on the wall just above the bed's headboard. His friends had been gone a
long time, and in spite of himself, he was starting to worry a bit. He knew all
of them were dead tired and running low on stamina. Even Cloud had been
unconsciously dragging his feet as they piled into the van and drove off.
Sighing internally, Vincent lifted the end of his borrowed shirt and replaced
the handgun back in its holster, folding the rag and setting it on the lampstand
next to the bed. His arm felt strangely heavy, and he knew it was a telltale
sign of fatigue that he hadn't felt in years. How long had it been since he had
last slept? If memory served him correctly, it had been with Yuffie in the hotel
three days ago, unless he counted the fitful, nightmare-ridden periods of
unconsciousness over the last three days. Normally, Vincent could go quite a
while without sleep, but their recent endeavors had been rather…taxing to say
the least.
Unfortunately, now that he had actually acknowledged the fact that he was
tired, sleep kept trying to make his eyelids heavier than normal. He
contemplated getting up and walking around, but he knew that if he started, he
would just end up pacing back and forth, worrying about Cloud and others and
glancing at the small figure buried underneath the covers in the bed.
Vincent was glad to see that Yuffie was finally getting better. Holding her
feverish body in his arms all the way to Junon had shaken him more than he was
willing to admit, and even when she woke up, he could tell that the fever had
not quite run its course yet. In fact, her overexcitement when she realized her
state of undress had probably caused her to have a relapse quicker than normal.
What caused her strange "illness" in the first place was still in question, and
Vincent wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to know the answer. The Hissers had
done something severely traumatic that had disturbed even a tough man like Cid
Highwind. Had they done the same thing to Yuffie? Or worse?
Carefully, he reached out and grazed Yuffie's cheek with his fingertips,
unable to wonder if his happiness at seeing her alive and well had been
premature. Accident victims sometimes didn't realize they had life threatening
injuries until several days after the accident had occurred. He was afraid that
Yuffie might have not physical, but mental or emotional damage, and unless they
knew what had happened down there in that place between heaven and hell, no one
would be able to help her.
Vincent withdrew his hand sharply. //You're worrying too much// he told
himself cruelly, as if trying to frighten away the timid emotions that had been
to tentatively rear their heads, cautious creatures peering out to see if the
cold, brutal winter was over and wondering if spring had finally arrived.
Folding his arms across his chest, he sank back into the chair, the wood
digging into his spine as his eyes drifted almost unwillingly to where Yuffie
was slumbering in relative peace. He couldn't recall the last time he had ever
just sat and watched someone sleep. He never did so because he felt like an
intruder when he watched someone in their moment of rest, when they were at
their most helpless. Strangely enough, sleep didn't make Yuffie look any more
youthful than she already appeared. If anything, she looked a bit older, a bit
more mature than she did when she was awake. Just went to show that there was a
woman hiding underneath the ninja's naiveté.
The door to the bedroom suddenly creaked open, and Reno poked his head in,
glancing at Vincent with undisguised wariness in his aquamarine eyes, as if he
weren't sure if he was welcome in the room or not. Vincent met his gaze
indifferently, eyes and face betraying nothing. Reno shrugged and entered the
room, shutting the door quietly behind him before sprawling his long frame into
the chair on the other side of Yuffie's bed.
There was a brief moment of silence, and then Reno asked, "How long has it
been now?"
"Two hours and forty-five minutes," Vincent replied.
Reno looked at him in surprise. "So you've been counting, too, eh?"
"Yes," the other man said calmly. "Where is Cait Sith?"
An annoyed look crossed Reno's face. "Downstairs chatting it up with Kyra.
She'd rather talk to the robotic cat than to me."
"She seems to honestly dislike you."
"I KNOW that. Thank you for reminding me."
Vincent didn't even bother replying. Sarcasm was, in his opinion, only to be
answered if one had sarcasm to give in return. And Vincent was one man who was
pretty much sarcasm-less so he let the silence fall like a thick blanket of
snow, broken only by the thudding of raindrops against the restaurant's walls.
Faintly, he could hear the voices of Kyra and Cait downstairs, and it provided
him with a small bit of comfort to know that at least they were safe.
"Where did I go wrong?" Reno suddenly asked quietly.
Vincent looked up in surprise to find an odd, pensive look on the Turk's
face, aquamarine eyes misted as they stared up at the ceiling. "What do you
mean?"
"C'mon, Valentine," Reno urged with a touch of impatience in his voice. "You
used to be Turk, didn't you?"
Vincent just stared at him, not liking where the conversation was heading.
His dark past had never been one of his favorite topics of discussion.
"Then, tell me," Reno continued. "What's wrong with me? Why aren't my
unstintingly loyal Turks following my orders? Why do they keep leaving me
behind? Why am I losing control of them?" There was barely restrained
frustration in his tone, a strange inflexion that for some reason made it seem
as if Reno was bordering on panic.
Vincent lifted an eyebrow. "You're asking me?"
Reno's eyes were intense, the dark scars on his cheekbones standing out on
his pale face. "What do you think of me, Valentine? Am I a leader? Why do Rude
and Elena keep acting on their own?"
"These questions will get you nowhere Reno. I'm not the person to ask."
"I think you're JUST the person to ask. You follow Cloud. Why?"
"You're upset at being left behind, Reno. Take it up with Rude and Elena when
they return."
Reno leaned forward determinedly in his chair, damp ponytail falling over his
shoulder. "If you were still a Turk and I was your leader, would you follow me?"
Vincent resisted the urge to sigh. Reno was nothing if not persistent. "I
can't answer that question, Reno, due to the fact that I'm nearly three times
your age—"
//three times Yuffie's age for that matter//
"—and I see you as youthfully impertinent. You're from an entirely different
generation than I am."
Reno opened his mouth.
"And to answer your question," Vincent cut in. "Yes, I would follow you, but
only because I had to. It's what Turks do: never question orders."
"Exactly! So what the hell do Rude and Elena think they're doing now?"
Vincent folded his arms across his chest. "Do you really want the answer?"
"I wouldn't have come in here if I wasn't prepared."
"It's simple. They're torn between two leaders: you and Cloud." Vincent
stared Reno in the eye. "But this you already know, right?"
Reno nodded. "Yeah, but Cloud told me that his only purpose is to bring
AVALANCHE together. You think for yourselves."
"Of course we do. He's not our master, just our leader. We trust him to make
good decisions. We trust him to think things through completely before acting.
We trust him with our lives." He gave the Turk a deep look. "And since you're
prepared for anything I have to say, I have no qualms in telling you that
Cloud's leadership abilities clearly overshadow yours."
Reno's face darkened.
"You know what I say is true. Even the ever headstrong Elena is starting to
take orders from him more easily."
"Are you saying Rude and Elena don't trust me?" Reno snapped. "Are you saying
they'd rather follow Cloud than follow me?"
Vincent shook his head, some of his midnight black hair falling over his
eyes. "No, they would follow you into hell itself, not because you're their
leader, but because you're their friend."
The surprise on Reno's face was evident. The angry light in his eyes died
abruptly.
"Surely you consider them your friends as well?" Vincent asked shrewdly.
Reno was taken aback. "Of course I do. They're the only friends I have."
"They'll follow you, Reno. They'll die for you. And right now part of what
they're doing is trying to protect you. You've been in emotional distress
recently, and they're trying to keep you from having a breakdown."
"By leaving me out of the action?"
"Yes."
Reno slumped in his chair, looking overwhelmed. "Well, shit, this is all too
damn much for me. Anything else you want to add before my brain overloads?"
"Do you have any more bothersome questions?"
Reno's face was serious. "Yeah, I do, actually. What do you think of the
Turks now, Vincent?"
Crimson eyes stared the man right in the face. "The Turks are a dead
organization, Reno. They fell alongside Shinra. All you carry now is their name.
Under Reeve, the Turks have an entirely different purpose, and that purpose is
no longer a foul, amoral one."
Reno was staring at him as if he had sprouted another head. "Geez, Valentine,
you sure can talk a lot when you want to. Is your mouth sore? Do you need a
glass of water?"
"No," Vincent said calmly. "But I'd be much obliged if you'd take your sense
of humor elsewhere."
Reno laughed, not in the least bit offended as he rose from his chair and
stretched languidly. "Fine, fine." He glanced down at where Yuffie was sleeping.
"Is she gonna be okay?"
Vincent nodded. "It seems like it."
"Well, isn't that good to hear," Reno commented, sauntering towards the door.
"If you need me, my lazy ass will be asleep down the hall. And try and get some
rest, Valentine. You're looking a little pale." He laughed at his own joke and
slipped out of the room, leaving Vincent frowning at the closed door.
//Quite a character, that one// he thought.
A sigh escaped his lips as he finally gave into his fatigue and slouched in
the chair. It seemed logical that, after three days, he should be getting some
sleep, but he wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to Yuffie or one of
his friends when he was immersed in his world of perpetual nightmares. Despite
his resolve not to fall asleep, Vincent found himself dozing slightly in the
uncomfortable chair, hovering in a world somewhere between reality and dream.
When he managed to rouse himself, Yuffie was wide awake and staring at him
with dark, haunted eyes.
//Her illness is gone// he thought with absolute conviction as he
straightened in his chair. True, the brightness of the fever had dissipated from
the stormy depths of her eyes, but it seemed to have taken something with it.
The prominent flash and shine that he had come to associate with Yuffie was
dimmed slightly, and he knew it had something to do with the memories of her
kidnapping and the events that occurred beneath the earth. In those gray eyes,
he saw the dark remnants of unimaginable horrors.
"You're awake," he said softly, leaning forward slightly to peer down at her
face, which was the only thing poking out of the blankets.
She merely nodded, eyes a bit wide.
"Are you feeling alright?" Vincent asked.
"I'm…okay, I guess," she said quietly. "Did I…have a relapse or something?"
"Yes, you did," Vincent answered, rising from his chair and turning to
retrieve the forgotten clothes Kyra had offered before Yuffie fainted. The look
in her eyes was irking him. He'd seen rape victims with those kinds of eyes.
//Did they…to Yuffie? I'll kill them if they did. I'll do more than kill
them.//
He picked up the clothes with his right arm, not trusting himself not to
shred the garments with his claw in his sudden anger. When he thought of anyone
touching Yuffie, defiling her, he felt a deep rage, viscous and boiling, in his
soul. That was bad. Rage fed the demons, just as surely as sorrow and bitterness
and self-loathing did. He didn't need to be kindling the flames of damnation
with any new emotions.
There was a brief rustling behind him as Yuffie rose to a sitting position,
clutching the blankets protectively to her chest. Vincent turned to see her
touching her own forehead with her palm. "I don't think I have a fever any
more," she said, and he heard that beloved cheerful tone trying to come back
into her voice.
"You don't," Vincent said matter-of-factly. "Whatever illness you had is gone
now."
"I feel…dirty," Yuffie suddenly confessed, staring hard at her sheet-covered
lap. She had her hands fisting in the blankets so tightly her knuckles were
white. "I feel unclean, like I want to take a shower, but I know a shower won't
help."
The torn look in her eyes caused a deep pain to blossom in his chest. "I
don't know exactly what happened down there, Yuffie, but I know…I must have been
terrible."
A bitter, hard-edged laugh suddenly erupted from her mouth. "Terrible?" she
repeated. "TERRIBLE?! 'Terrible' doesn't even BEGIN to describe it! It was…I
HATED it down there…" Her voice trailed off, and she turned away from him,
shoulders shaking.
Vincent just stood there, feeling helpless. He had never been good at
comforting people, and despite what Tifa had said the other day about Yuffie
finding comfort in his mere presence, a part of him still didn't believe it. If
his presence was so bloody soothing, then why was Yuffie sitting not five feet
away from him, holding a blanket up to her chest to cover her nakedness and
tottering on the edge of a breakdown? Some comfort.
"Gawd!" she suddenly cried, flopping back onto her pillow and covering her
head with the sheet, drawing the cloth smooth and taut. "I'm about to cry," she
said, voice muffled. "I HATE when I cry! I'm such a damn baby…"
A strange sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh came from underneath the
blanket, followed by dozens of others until Vincent truly wasn't sure if she was
laughing giddily or sobbing hysterically underneath the cover of the sheets. His
hand tightened on the clothes, holding them tighter against his chest as he
stared down at the bed and girl beneath the covers who was trying not to allow
her sanity to shatter into a million pieces.
Vincent wanted to leave; he couldn't bear to see her like this, not when he
was powerless to help her. Was he supposed to tell her everything was going to
be okay? No, that would be a lie, and a big one, at that.
Vincent had always hated it when people cried, especially females. With other
males, he knew he didn't have to offer much comfort; the masculine defense
mechanism would not allow them to accept comfort from another man, with the only
exception being close friends. But women were a different story. Vincent had
always tried to comfort Lucrecia when she wept…but that had been a long time
ago. When he was only five years old, and his sisters were weeping – some
hysterically, some quietly – over the brutal slaughter of their mother, he had
patted their long dark hair with his tiny hands, wanting to protect them…but
that had been a long time ago as well.
And in the end, he couldn't protect anything. Lucrecia perished at the hands
of a madman after bearing his devil-child. Vincent's sisters died trying to
protect him, not the other way around. He had long ago accepted the fact that he
had no comfort, no protection, no love, to offer anyone or anything.
Or did he?
//Yuffie…//
Setting the bundle of clothes quietly on the lampstand, Vincent eased his
weight onto the side of the bed, watching Yuffie's blanket-covered figure for
any signs of discomfort. Her sobs/laughter had subsided sometime during his dark
musings, and the only sound coming from underneath the covers was a soft
weeping.
Vincent carefully reached over and wrapped his human fingers around the edge
of the sheet, gently pulling it back to reveal Yuffie's face. She offered him no
resistance, letting the sheet slide from her fingers. He had expected her eyes
to be closed, her face turned into the pillows, but instead those endless gray
eyes were wide open, shimmering with tears that painted silver tracks down her
face. Droplets glittered on the ends of her eyelashes, staining them a perfect
shade of black.
"Yuffie," he whispered, unable to say anything else. He only knew that he
hated to see her cry.
"I feel horrible!" she suddenly exclaimed, the words rushing from her mouth
so quickly she nearly tumbled over them.
"Why?"
She was struggling to breathe; her sobs were suddenly choking her.
"Because…because…for a long time…I didn't think you all were coming for me!" She
stared him in the face, eyes overflowing with an endless stream of tears. "I
thought you all were going to leave me down there! I was horrible, doubting you
all! I doubted my friends. I’m so sorry, Vincent!"
Vincent shook his head. "Yuffie, it's not your fault. You're alive, and
that's all that matters."
She swallowed visibly, making a valiant attempt to control her approaching
hysteria. "My mind feels raw," she suddenly whispered feverishly, eyes wide. "I
feel so dirty." Her voice broke on the last word.
Vincent reached out and cradled her cheek, wiping away her tears with his
callused fingers. Her eyes got just a touch wider, and she became still as he
stroked her face softly. He suddenly felt as if he could fall into the
shimmering, tear-stained depths of those heart-wrenching eyes. The sensation was
so tangible that his stomach lurched slightly, as if he were really plummeting
into those stormy gray orbs.
"Vinnie!" Yuffie suddenly said. The word came out more forcefully than he had
expected, causing him to jump slightly. Her hands suddenly were fisted in the
front of his shirt, tugging him towards her. Vincent's heart skipped a beat when
he thought that she was trying to pull him on top of her, but then her hands
started scrabbling at his shoulders, and he realized she was only trying to hug
him.
That – now that he could do.
Vincent leaned down and carefully slid his arms around Yuffie, making sure to
keep the razor-sharp digits of his claw away from her tender skin. He drew her
against him, and she slid her trembling arms around his neck, gripping with
strength he hadn't thought a girl of her small frame could possess. Cheek
pressed against her damp, feverish one, he held her tightly, but not without a
certain gentleness. He was afraid she was going to break in his arms, but he
also knew that she would not like him treating her like a baby. She certainly
wasn't a child any longer.
Yuffie's back shook with silent sobs, and Vincent drew her into a
half-sitting position so he could better wrap his arms around her, his human
hand resting on her back. The blanket had fallen off long ago, and she was clad
only in the black undergarment that she had been so hasty to cover up the first
time she had awakened. Consequently, he had no choice but to rest his ungloved
hand on the bare skin of her back. Her skin was tender and warm, almost feverish
from her lying on her back for such a long period of time. He looked at his own
hand juxtaposed next to the flesh, noticing that the cloth of his borrowed shirt
and the skin of his hand were almost the same ghostly white color. The light
golden tan of her skin only made his hand look even paler.
It was silly thing, but he just kept staring down at his hand against her
gently heaving back, long fingers splayed across her soft skin. Something was
happening inside of him. There was an ache in his chest that he didn't care to
decipher. There was no time for such things now…
//Maybe not ever. I can't let this happen. She's just a young girl still.//
Eventually, Yuffie's tears ran dry, and she was quiet in his arms, head
resting on his shoulder with her fingers buried in his long dark hair. She clung
to him for a few seconds more, then slowly pulled back, wiping her face as she
did so.
"Sorry, Vinnie," she muttered ashamedly, sounding more like the Yuffie he
knew. "Don't make fun of me because I'm a crybaby."
Vincent sat back, folding his arms across his chest because he no longer knew
what to do with them. "You've just been through a terrible ordeal, Yuffie," he
said in what he hoped was a semi-soothing tone. "No one is going to fault you
for crying."
She gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, Vinnie."
He nodded mutely, one corner of his mouth curling slightly. However, now that
his emotions had been reigned in, he was now unhealthily aware of the fact that
the sheets were all bunched around Yuffie's waist, and she was…showing a lot of
skin.
She apparently noticed it at the same time he did, for she snatched the
blankets and held them in front of her like a shield. "Oops," she said
sheepishly. "Didn't mean to flash you."
Vincent almost said "That's okay" but stopped himself just in time, knowing
that particular phrasing would have sounded awkward. Instead he just shrugged
and stood, picking the bundle of clothes off the lampstand and handing them to
Yuffie, who accepted them with one arm plastered to her chest to keep her sheet
from falling.
"Thank you for rescuing me, Vinnie," she suddenly said hurriedly, a minor
eruption of words that had been pent up for a while.
Vincent shook his head. "No need to thank me, Yuffie," he said softly. "It
was…"
//Something I had to do? No…that's not it. I didn't do just because I had to.
I wanted to save her. I wanted to see her safe again.//
He glanced down to see Yuffie staring up at him questioningly.
"Nothing," he finished lamely, pushing his hair back from his face with his
human hand.
She frowned at him. "No fair, Vinnie. You can't give me popcorn without the
butter."
Vincent blinked, stumped by the odd phrasing until he managed to grasp the
meaning. Then he looked down at the girl seated in her bed, and an affectionate
smile came to his lips. It was a mere shadow of the full-fledged laughter that
had came from his mouth a few hours before, but it was enough to bring an
answering smile to Yuffie's face. The glow was starting to return to her eyes.
She would heal. He was glad.
"I'm going downstairs with the others," Vincent said. "You get dressed and
join us as soon as you feel well enough."
"Others?" Yuffie asked as Vincent moved away from her bed. "Is everyone still
here?"
Vincent turned back, shaking his head. "Only Reno, Cait Sith, and Kyra
remain. The others went after the Running Man." He glanced at the clock above
her head. "That was almost three hours ago."
Yuffie's eyes widened, face beautifully expressive as it was before her
abduction. "Gawd. Vinnie, that's a long time for them to be gone!"
He could only nod grimly. "I know, but--"
Vincent never got to finish his sentence because the thundering of footsteps
could suddenly be heard coming up the stairs, heading in the direction of the
bedroom. His hand instinctively flew to the butt of the Outsider, and he was
turning towards the door just as Kyra came charging through, nearly spilling
herself onto the floor in her haste. Her amber eyes were wide, her auburn hair
tumbling around her pale face as she struggled for breath.
She pointed down the hall with a shaky arm, words divided by loud gasps.
"Your friends (gasp) downstairs (gasp) they have (gaspgasp) the Running Man!"
~*~*~*~*
They put the Running Man in the restaurant's damp, leaky cellar. For some
reason that Cloud didn't want to know, Kyra had a pair of handcuffs in the
cellar, and these were used to chain the unconscious man's wrists to one of the
pipe's jutting out of the back wall of the cellar. The dark haired woman that
Elena and Tifa had captured was tied to a chair using yards upon yards of rope,
knotted haphazardly here and there. When Yuffie woke up, they were going to have
to ask her to tie the woman up professional style.
The whole operation seemed savage and evil somehow, chaining prisoners in
dark cellars and such, and though Cloud had a feeling he was going to get his
method of handling the situation thrown back in his face later on, he could see
no other way to ensure the safety of his teammates. He had seen firsthand how
inhumanly crafty and quick the Running Man was in open battle. The man had held
his own against four highly trained human opponents and one quadruped with a
beast's cunning and above-average intelligence.
In the end of the battle, they had merely overwhelmed the Running Man with
their sheer numbers, cornering him and then striking. Cloud wasn't eager to see
how any of them would hold out in a one-on-one battle. As far as he knew, the
Running Man hadn't even been armed when he fought against them in the abandoned
building.
Even now, unconscious and slumped against the wall, the Running Man still
looked dangerous. Though he was quite a bit younger than Cloud had imagined,
there was certain arrangement of his facial features that screamed for others to
be wary of him. A permanent coldness, maybe. Either way, Cloud knew they
wouldn't be able to take the Running Man lightly.
Cloud leaned his weary body against the wall behind him, the Ultima Weapon in
his hands, glowing faintly in the darkness. A small light bulb dangling from the
ceiling illuminated the faces of his friends gathered in various corners of the
room. No one had wanted to wait upstairs. *Everyone* wanted to look into the
eyes Reeve's kidnapper when he woke up, a general mindset Cloud wasn't at all
pleased with.
They were all tired, weary, angry, on the edge and ready to snap. Cloud
wasn’t even sure if he trusted himself to question the Running Man without
hurting him, much less any of the others. Cid was crouched in one corner of the
cellar (defying Cloud's suggestion that he go wait upstairs with Kyra and Cait),
brimming with instability and the trembling effort of holding it in. There was a
haunted darkness in the man's blue eyes that made Cloud uncomfortable, but he
was sure Cid was aware of the darkness' presence as well, and he was doing his
best to reign it in.
But in the event that he couldn't, Cloud had made sure Barret and Red XIII
were both within grabbing distance of the man. Though it was obvious Red had to
keep on eye on them both. Admittedly, Barret would stop Cid from doing something
stupid, but he wouldn't be in the state of mind to stop himself from doing
something of equal stupidity. The man already looked like he was ready to
explode with anger, and the Running Man wasn't even awake yet.
Rude had gone upstairs to get Reno, something Cloud was REALLY not looking
forward to. It was kind of like setting a bull loose in a china shop. Cloud
might be able to talk his friends down from an irrational rage, but Reno was
always a dangerous, unknown factor. No one knew what could set him off.
Tired though they were, Tifa and Elena each stood to one side of the bound
woman, who was, unfortunately, awake and talking.
"This absolutely senseless," she snapped, and Cloud winced at her nasal,
accented voice. "Why do these broads need to stand guard? It's not like I'm
GOING anywhere." She jerked on her ropes pointedly.
"I'm not a broad," Tifa growled.
"Me either," Elena echoed angrily. "So you'd best just shut your mouth,
bitch."
//God, not them too//
"Cut it out, Elena," Cloud ordered sharply.
Elena cut it out, but Cloud knew her obedience wasn't going to last long. As
soon as Reno waltzed into the cellar, he had no problem guessing whose orders
she would be following.
The door at the top of the cellar creaked open, and Cloud held his breath
when he saw a tall, lanky figure silhouetted against the dim light. It was only
when the door shut behind the figure and darkness once again claimed the room
that he was able to see the luminescent crimson eyes in all their horrible
glory.
"How's Yuffie?" Tifa asked immediately.
"She's fine," Vincent said calmly as he descended the stairs without a sound.
"She's getting dressed right now, and then she's coming down."
Tifa frowned. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
The two continued to converse, but Cloud tuned them out. His allies could
handle and support each other (hopefully), and that meant he had to worry about
their enemies. Since the Running Man was still slumped lifelessly against the
wall, Cloud was left to study the mysterious woman in the leather bodysuit. She
was watching Vincent very closely, eyes tracking his movements like a rabbit
listening to the sounds of the predator lurking in the night. The woman was
afraid of Vincent - that much was clear. The red eyes and pale skin had probably
done it; this kind of reaction was typical of those meeting Vincent for the
first time.
Then the woman suddenly stiffened, back going ramrod straight in her chair.
Her dark eyes widened until they appeared grotesquely large in a face that had
suddenly been sucked of all its color. What the hell was wrong with her now?
The door at the top of the cellar flew open as if hit by a strong wind, and
Reno stormed into the dark room, talking angrily as Rude followed at his back
like a sentinel.
"—don't think I ain't angry with you because I sure as hell am," Reno was
saying as he descended the stairs, aquamarine eyes roving the room.
The woman let out a short, strangled noise, and Reno stopped short of her
chair, staring down at her. The horrified woman stared back, as if enraptured by
the man that stood barely five feet away from her. A stifling silence clamped
down on the room; Cloud was surprised he couldn't hear his heartbeat echoing in
the yawning void of sound. He had never heard a silence so complete and terrible
as this one.
Then Reno spoke in a horrified, strangled voice. "Alette?!"
~owari ch. 30
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