"Oh my god..." Emelia chokes, staring down at the lifeless girl whose eyes remain open, gazing up at her murderer in permanent horror. "What have you done?"

"How long have you been standing there?" François asks, his death-stained lips thinning.

Emelia doesn't answer, unable to tear her eyes away from the corpse by his feet.

The woman's lipstick is smeared and the front of her white blouse is unbuttoned, making it crystal clear how he lured her here. Death by seduction.

"Oh, don't make that face," he mutters. "You have seen me kill people before."

Emelia looks up at him with tears beginning to obscure her vision. When she speaks again her voice is barely above a whisper but François has no trouble hearing her.

"Why?"

"Do you seriously need me to answer that?" he says contemptuously.

She gapes at him, disgust churning her stomach, and François' eyes flicker down to his victim.

After a brief - almost contemplative - moment of silence, he says, "I didn't ask what her name was. I knew it would be better that way."

Emelia drags in a ragged breath, feeling stray tears trickle down her cheeks.

"How could that possibly make it better?" she demands, her voice shaking like the ground before an earthquake.

"For me it does."

"And what about her?"

"She doesn't really matter," François states with a one-shoulder shrug. "It's what she was here for anyway."

His words bring Emelia's swirling thoughts to a violent halt.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asks, the sick sensation in her stomach intensifying as Malcolm's earlier words resurface.

...if you were not such a brainless invalid, then her attire would have made it perfectly clear to you that she is a guest at this event, not one of the servers...

"The waiting staff," François clarifies, casually rebuttoning his blazer. "It's what they are here for."

Oh my god, Emelia thinks as realisation hits. The human staff aren't only here to serve food, they are the food. Oh my god oh my god-

"You..." She can barely breathe past the burning tightness in her chest. Is this what unadulterated rage feels like? "You monster!"

"Don't shout." François' narrows his eyes at her. "You will interrupt the festivities."

"Good," she yells regardless. "I hope someone hears! You killed her, you sick son of a-"

He lunges before she can finish, moving so fast he becomes one with the darkness. The next thing Emelia knows is she's trapped between François' body and the trunk of the closest tree.

The harsh bark digs into her exposed back painfully, inciting her to struggle against him but when his cold fingers wrap around her throat, she freezes.

He glowers at her and bares his still-extended fangs centimetres from her face.

"Listen to me carefully," he growls, his chest vibrating against hers. "Your silly little life still hangs in the balance and can come to an end very quickly, so I suggest you behave before I change my mind about keeping you alive."

Emelia glares back without flinching, hoping he feels the hatred she has for him radiating from her soul.

"You can't kill me," she says, resisting the unexpected urge to smile. "Your father won't allow it. He's afraid of what my dad will do if anything happens to me or Sofie."

"Your father isn't as powerful as you think," François counters but she ignores the comment, continuing.

"It must be really frustrating not being able to kill me, huh?" She stops holding back the smile now. "Bet it gets on your nerves so badly."

"I suggest you stop talking," François warns, "Unless you want me to hurt you badly."

"Your threats don't scare me. Haven't you realised that already?"

Leaning forward, Emelia presses her neck against his palm. She can feel her own pulse thrumming beneath his fingers, so no doubt he can too.

"Go on then," she challenges. "Hurt me. Do your worst, you pathetic bully."

They glare into each other's eyes for what feels like an age and Emelia waits for him to react by strangling her but he doesn't. He wordlessly releases her instead.

Soon as he steps back, Emelia bolts away. She doesn't slow to retrieve her shoes or glance back to see if he follows.

More important things occupy her mind, like finding Sofie and escaping this place before anyone else dies...

Back at the Grove, Emelia resumes her frantic search for Sofie.

The sounds and sights of the ball have become overwhelming, causing her to feel claustrophobic and overexposed simultaneously.

As she travels through the throng, Emelia catches sight of some servers and her heart plummets.

I have to warn them, she thinks, preparing to do exactly that when a familiar giggle draws her attention towards the dance floor.

Sofie comes into view, elevated above the mass of dancers.

Relief swamps Emelia before being replaced by horror when she realises her cousin is in the arms of a stranger.

Without regard for the dance or the disapproving stares of onlookers, Emelia rushes onto the floor. She reaches Sofie in less than ten seconds while also managing to avoid crashing into anyone along the way.

Sofie spots Emelia's approach over her dance partner's shoulder and surprise flashes across her face.

"Emmy?"

"Put her down." Emelia barely glances at the man, grabbing Sofie as soon as she's back on her feet. "We're leaving - now."

"Emmy!" her cousin gasps, appalled. "What are you doing?"

Instead of letting go, Sofie's dance partner tightens his hold and prevents her from being pulled away from him. Emelia finally turns to the man, noting his extensive height, and cranes her neck to glare at him.

"Can we help you?" he asks, scowling down at her through tousled red hair. Emelia narrows her eyes at him.

Sofie is only seventeen and despite this man's youthful skin, the sharp structure of facial bones beneath make it obvious he is much older. Pervert.

"As I said," Emelia grounds out, "We're leaving."

Sofie gawks, her face reddened with embarrassment. She hastily attempts to diffuse the awkward situation.

"This is, uh, my cousin Emelia," she tells the vampire, fumbling over her words. "Emelia, this is-"

"Howl," he rumbles, finishing her sentence. Ugh.

"Okay!" Emelia throws her arms up in frustration. "It's not nice to meet you."

A choking sound escapes Sofie's mouth, eyes going wider than what should be humanly possible. She looks about ready to die from mortification.

The dance has now ended and without the music, everyone can hear the combative conversation.

"Emmy," Sofie hisses but Emelia ignores her, stepping forward and yanking her from Howl's hold. He allows it to happen this time but doesn't look happy about it.

"Oh- uh, it was lovely meeting you," Sofie calls as she's towed away. "Thanks for the dance!"

___.___

Phew. That was intense!

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