Mystery in Blood

Chapter I

I

In the autumn of 1900, I began to have doubts about a particular person, almost a legend, a powerful sorceress from two centuries ago, but whom time had made a point of forgetting. Carmilla! Alencar's Countess of the Blood. This curiosity, obviously born of a motive, came from my search for a story that could guarantee me notoriety in the Royal Newspaper, which I had been trying for three years to get the slightest attention with my articles. 

I abstained from my commitments to the Guild, carrying out a few but lucrative missions in the meantime in order to support myself. I focused all my efforts on poring over old parchments, notes and newspaper cuttings. And if you remember, I turned to you many afternoons. Your patience with my questions, some of which were silly, was really something to behold! And the search was fruitful, so that in the spring of 1901 I was ready to set off on my journey. But I was warned of the dangers, so I was advised to hire some help; a bodyguard - even though I refused at first. However, after analysing the warnings further, I accepted the need.

A few weeks before the trip, I had gone to the Guild to sign all the usual paperwork. New missions usually have to go through a sieve before being approved, so that they can be accepted and made official, avoiding any incidents that could complicate the image of the institution, but I only had to make the initial payment. A third of the reward, leaving the rest tied up until my return, and if successful. I then only had to wait patiently for interested parties, evaluate them and give my verdict. Over the course of the next few days, I received just over half a dozen applications from interested parties. In short, there was no interest on my part in them, apart from one from an acquaintance; a friend, but at that time a distant one. I was surprised, obviously, but I was intrigued. 

I was in my room, sitting at the table. Because it was late, I left the window open so that the natural sunlight could illuminate the room; it cascaded down like a waterfall, and the subtle puffs of wind caressed the skin of my face in a gentle way. I looked on curiously, calmly analysing his file.

"Gray... Fullbuster..." 

More capable than requested; more experienced than expected. Even though this was a difficult journey and an adventure into a different realm, the unusual presence of someone of his calibre instigated my imagination.

"It's probably a sin to refuse..."

I muttered, leaving it (the paper) on the table, where before it had been part of a small pile, but now it stood out; alone; different from the others, kept in the drawer, and which would be dispensed with to serve as a volume in the office rubbish bin. 

That same day, only a little later, I handed my decision over to Mirajane - at the time, the person responsible for dealing with these formal hassles. I had high praise for her work, being prompt and punctual, and just by watching her go about her business, I knew of her possible rise to higher positions (a fact that materialised months later). 

II

There was nothing else to do, not urgently. I had asked you, my friend, to look after my house; to tidy it up from time to time, and to look after what was mine until I returned, otherwise there could be a danger that when I returned I would either have an empty house, or that my furniture and property would be completely ruined by the humid climate of the sea. 

I was a little anxious. It would be a journey of weeks, almost months, to the other side of the kingdom, with only his company to guide me, and we had little intimacy, even though in the not-so-distant past we had harboured great respect and affection for each other. Time and distance played their part in destroying that. So I was launching myself into the unknown with an almost stranger. Strangely, an exciting idea; perhaps because I admired and knew him, and had him all to myself; this possibility, and because others wanted and dreamed of being in the same situation as me. I liked the feeling, even if it was silly, of being different. 

Of course, we only met once before we left. A few days before, for a kind of interview, recommended by Erza, who said it was essential for us to create at least some connection, and to establish certain limits, as well as some requirements for the agreement. Not that it was necessary, because I trusted him, even though I didn't know his reasons for accepting such a mediocre mission for someone of his calibre. 

III

Occasionally, I chose to ask a third party to inform him of the meeting almost the day before the journey. I could only think of Lissana, Mirajane's sister, who could fulfil this selfish little request, and she kindly agreed. I ended up choosing a more private place, a café a little away from the centre, with a pleasant view of the sea. 

I wanted to impress him... 

So I put on a woollen shirt that emphasised my bust, which I liked so much because of its volume, with its square neckline, short sleeves, as smooth as pristine snow; together with a blue goddess skirt, with a normal cut, showing off my waist, which I liked so much and bragged about. This somewhat atypical choice pleased me with the results, even though the outfit was simple. I was only in doubt about my hair, whether to let it down or tie it up, but in the end I opted for something more natural. It's just a formal meeting, I thought, and yet I also thought: will he like it like this? As if I were meeting a lover! And remembering it still makes me laugh, but also feel a little embarrassed at the thought of it. 

IV

 I was the first to arrive. I sat down at the table, with a beautiful view of the sea waves and the boats drifting by, others on the quayside. To pass the time and some of my anxiety, I ordered a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of lukewarm café au lait, keeping an eye on the foam. I arrived early, about twenty minutes before I was supposed to, to avoid the chance that he would be waiting for me at the end of the day. That would have been vulgar and disrespectful. I just had to wait. Gray wasn't late, he was extremely punctual, just as I remembered from his customs. He waved to me as I entered, and at a slow pace he approached, observing his surroundings, studying them, and showing his contentment with his subtle smile.

"Sit down, please. You don't have to be so formal with me!"

"Sorry, it's customary... Hnn... it was a bit short notice, don't you think?"

"... Just a little. Can I get you something? You're my guest in a way. Then we can discuss it while we eat something! I recommend the chocolate cake... theirs are delicious."

"I'll have a slice of chocolate tart, I'm not much of a cake person."

"... Okay..."

I bent down to approach him, interlacing my fingers with my elbows on the table to rest my chin on my hands. My voice sounded a little low, and I kept my usual gentle tone. His eyes wavered, losing their focus for a moment, mine, to unassumingly drop down and linger, even though he was trying not to, below my neck. I noticed, obviously, but I just raised my hand and called out:

"Please, could you help us?"

A young girl approached, smiling. She had short, coal-black hair, almond-shaped brown eyes and darker, sun-tanned skin. With a smile from ear to ear, she bowed gently and replied with a strong accent:

"Of course! What would you like?"

"For me more café au lait; and for him, well... a fat slice of that chocolate tart, please. Something to drink?"

Gray was thoughtful for a few seconds, then just said:

"Just warm milk."

"Ah... OK! That's all then, thank you."

With her skilful hands, she wrote down the orders, without losing the sweet smile on her small face. Then we were alone again. Her hands on the table; her modest gaze hovering over my face, waiting for my initiative. I rehearsed, gently opening my lips, puffing out my chest and preparing myself, but the words vanished from my mind, only a noise (that of indecision) coming out.

"Lucy?"

"I'm sorry...! I have some demands... not many."

"All right. I'm under your orders."

"First you must... remain with me at all times, for my safety..."

"Yes."

"Secondly: my orders are absolute and you must not go against them..." 

I emphasised with my right hand. 

"And third: the second rule remains in force until we return to Fiore..."

"... Hnn... that's it?" 

"Nothing to dispute?"

"Well, they're a bit vague and strange... I won't lie, but I accept them... Ah, thank you! That was very quick."

Another plate arrived at the table, along with two mugs, and he took a delicate forkful of his dessert, tasting it; attesting to its quality. His face took on an expression of lethargy, his eyes ran from one side of the table to the other slowly, and then his fork rested next to the slice. He lifted his face and his mouth curved into a sincere smile. 

"It's been a long time since I've had something like this; the jam... thank you very much. It's great."

It certainly made the day of that woman, whose name I can't remember today. She must have deeply believed that she was being criticised, not praised. We carried on without further hassle, starting a new thread, discussing stopping points; where we should go; places to avoid. A complete mapping, but Gray ignored my previous markings, explaining the reasons for disregarding them. By the end, I was embarrassed, staring at my cup, moving it from side to side, not looking at him: there really are points that, I accept, I'm not so good at, but I tried to explain myself, dodging, claiming to know the dangers ahead, even though in the end they were just excuses, but I stood my ground, nevertheless, giving in during the course of our conversation; similar to my arguments, I sank to my knees, wanting to crawl under that table.

"Hey... let's change the subject..." Even though it sounded like a suggestion, I didn't treat it as a request. "Gray... why did you leave the group?"

His hands gradually became fists, hiding from my eyes; his shoulders slumped strangely, tense. I regretted it. The discontent being veiled in a false expression of serenity, but betrayed by the very essence harboured within, displayed by his gaze. So false. So true. The duality that only men can realise: lying, yet confessing. 

"Sorry. You don't owe me any explanation... I... I was just curious..."

I cursed silently, biting my lip, nervous about what I'd asked, about having been invasive, even innocently. Like a turtle, I ducked between my shoulders, trying to hide; and like a shield, my arms encircled me...

His gesture was gentle. He came closer, touching my head with his hand, moving it from side to side, messing up my hair. He drew a small smile from me, untying the knot of discomfort that was holding me, perhaps, to him, allowing the softness to return to our table, from where it should never have left...

"Idiot"