Only when the rain had washed away the last remnants of what was once a deadly beast did the man turn and leave the alley, his work for the night finished. Yet even his keen senses proved unable to detect the twin gazes focused on him, watching him closely, the same twin gazes that had studied his every move during his brief encounter with the monster.
From their perch on a building above, they shared a brief glance, one set of eyes cold and dead, the other just the opposite, full of fire and passion. For a brief moment, the Girl With the Dead Eyes considered asking the one she called Master why he had held her back, why he hadn’t let her intervene to save her childe, but decided against it. After all, she had cared little for the childe, she had created it as more an experiment than anything else. A way to learn more about her true nature.
“I have known that man for a long time,” her Master spoke, his voice soft and melodic. “He has pursued me for countless years. A type of monster that hunts not just humans, but our kind as well. A predator who preys on predators, he is the ultimate killer. They are called Inquisitors, after the witch-hunters of old.”
He smiled then, and she gave him her full attention.
“But the Inquisitor is also the ultimate prey. His blood grants great power to our kind. By drinking it, we evolve into the purest form of monster. We become what our legends have called The Final Nightmare.”
Listening closely, her eyes flickered briefly with realization.
She had been created, and had created another, solely for the purpose of luring the Inquisitor to them, so that her Master could drink his blood and gain power. Her Master knew the Inquisitor would hunt him, and he would use that knowledge to bait him into a trap. Ultimately, she realized, her existence was little more than a trail of bread crumbs.
She moved down from her spot on the roof, her mind racing, while the rain, sensing that the monsters were done for the night, began to let up. If her Master thought he could manipulate her for his own ends, he was sorely mistaken. By revealing this information to her, he had shown how little he thought of her, how he did not consider her a threat. In the end, he would die for it.
She knew now, for certain, that the Final Nightmare would be born, but not as her Master envisioned. No, The Final Nightmare would be born from the blood of the Inquisitor, from the blood of her Master, and from the Girl With the Dead Eyes.
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