Chapter 4
523words
She rode in the black carriage with its bat emblem, parading through the streets like royalty.
The carriage barreled through narrow streets as terrified vendors scrambled aside, fearing to offend this "noble lady."
I was descending from the mountain with a basket of herbs when I found myself directly in the carriage's path.
"Out of the way, blind peasant!" The coachman raised his whip—a blood servant under thrall, eyes clouded and vacant.
The carriage hurtled toward me without slowing.
The curtain lifted slightly, revealing Anna's face—delicate but with an unnatural, feverish flush.
Seeing me, her lips curled into a cruel smile. She had no intention of stopping.
"It doesn't matter if you're crushed," I read her lips. "The Countess will pay compensation."
I stood my ground.
Just as the horse's hooves were about to crush my skull, my hand flashed into my cloak, drawing the modified Colt.
*BANG!*
Thunder cracked the air.
I didn't aim for horse or human.
The silver bullet struck the cobblestones three inches before the horse's hooves, exploding into blinding white smoke—compressed holy water powder.
The black horses pulling the carriage—mixed-blood magical beasts—were hypersensitive to holy auras.
They reared with shrill neighs, front legs buckling. The carriage's momentum sent it lurching forward violently.
With a splintering crash, the carriage overturned, expensive woodwork shattering.
Anna flew through the window like a rag doll, her prized silk dress splattered with mud and horse manure.
"Oops." I blew smoke from my barrel and tucked the gun away, watching innocently as Anna struggled to rise. "Quite an entrance, sister."
Townspeople stared in shock before erupting into poorly concealed laughter.
Anna's face was smeared with filth, the ruby necklace hanging askew, making her look like a pathetic clown.
Anna screamed as she rose, but instead of cursing me, she lunged desperately for her fallen parasol.
"My parasol! My parasol!" Her voice cracked with panic, as if sunlight meant death itself.
The midday sun blazed overhead.
Despite her frantic movements, that brief sun exposure made her skin emit blue smoke, turning angry red as if scalded.
"What's wrong, sister?" I stepped deliberately into the brightest sunlight, sipping from my flask of holy water coffee from the church. "It's only early summer. The sunshine feels delightful."
Anna cowered in the shadow of the wrecked carriage, trembling.
Her drug-flushed face had turned paper-white.
"What do you know!" She hissed through clenched teeth, staring at me basking in sunlight, eyes burning with envy. "This is a noble affliction! The Countess says our aristocratic bloodline has delicate skin that cannot tolerate vulgar sunlight!"
Noble affliction?
I nearly laughed aloud.
That was from long-term consumption of dark alchemical potions, forcibly transforming her physiology into something corpse-like.
She was losing her human tolerance for sunlight, becoming a creature fit only for gutters and shadows.
"Yes, I'm built for hard labor. Tough-skinned." I waved my silver cross, its reflection flashing into her eyes.
*HISS*
She shrieked in agony, covering her eyes and stumbling backward, her skin blistering as if burned.
"You are delicate indeed," I said coldly. "Delicate like a cockroach that scurries from light."
