To His Hell and Back-Chapter 281: Death’s Utter Joy-II

Isabelle couldn’t muster the courage of asking what this cruel Arabella had meant. Only one thing was clear, that even in this state, the monstrous Arabella didn’t want to be the one behind the deaths of these vampires. She spoke as though she didn’t want to be found out, as if it was the duty of this cruel Arabella to do things behind the scene and was never spotted by anyone else.

"She seems to be in a terrible state, how rare," uttered the current Arabella while looking at her own body, "I suspect that she is in such a dire state. Her body is fragile but her head," she tapped her own forehead with a hum, "Has always been her best strength. She never breaks down in front of fear, so much so that at times I have to move her body for her without her notice."

Isabelle gulped, eyeing the current Arabella who was utterly different than her usual self. Finally, she was convinced that this Arabella was different from her usual self.

"What are you?" Isabelle gritted her teeth, "A ghost who possessed her?"

"No," answered Death, "You can say that I’m-" she drawled, tapping under her own chin in a thought, "I belong to many humans before. They use me, crafted me, and since then I grew to have my own soul- my own thoughts. Since then I have been lying dormant inside of the ones who had gained me, it’s my first time ever having so much control of my hosts but even that comes at a price."

"Are you dangerous-" Isabelle sighed, as she curled her fingers to the bad hand of hers, "Are you dangerous to Arabella?"

"How could that be?" Arabella chuckled, soft at first, then louder, until it bloomed into sharp, unrestrained laughter. "Dangerous to her? No, no... I could never harm the one who possesses me. If anything, you could say I’ve grown fond of her." Her eyes gleamed with something eerie, almost childlike. "I’ve been with her since she was just a sweet little baby. And over time... well, affection grows."

Isabelle opened her mouth. "How can we even trust—"

But the words froze in her throat.

In a blur, Arabella vanished, then reappeared right in front of her, silent as a shadow.

Isabelle staggered back, heart thundering. Her breath caught as Arabella reached out, expression blank, hollow eyed. Before she could flinch, the creature’s fingers brushed her injured arm.

Isabelle’s entire body tensed. Her mind screamed.

She had seen what happened when those hands touched flesh, death, with no wounds to show for it.

But the agony she braced for never came.

Instead, the fire in her arm, the throbbing pain coming from the twist of broken bone which she had forgotten from all the horror she had just witness— faded instantly.

Disappeared- No. Like it was never even injured in the first place.

Isabelle looked down in disbelief. Her arm, once mangled, was whole. The skin was smooth. No bruise. No trace. Nothing.

"What... what did you do?" she whispered, her eyes were amazed but horrified as this confirmed that Arabella wasn’t human anymore.

Arabella tilted her head, as if the question confused her. "I healed it. Isn’t that what she would have done?"

Isabelle’s legs gave out beneath her. She sank to her knees, overwhelmed. The lines between monster and protector had blurred until they no longer existed.

Shock didn’t cover it.

She couldn’t tell if she was trembling from fear, or awe.

And perhaps... both.

Staring at the ground, Isabelle wondered if Arabella was left on the battlefield- no matter who it is, wouldn’t she easily put against them such wonderful fight and defeat them with ease?

She wasn’t only a person capable of miracle- she was someone who could turn into a cure and death- a weapon no one could control.

"But I am wondering," Arabella spoke, "Whether I should kill you or leave you alive," she hummed, "Seems like my host didn’t want that but I know that you are up to no good."

Isabelle’s face turned pallid, as if the thought she had just entertained in her head had been read aloud.

Was this Arabella capable of that too?

"You could have dodged that arrow. You didn’t have to break your arm. And isn’t it strange," Arabella said, tilting her head with a sharp, inquisitive gaze, "how your servant, so unfailingly loyal, hasn’t made a single attempt to reach you? Not even once."

She crossed her arms, voice cooling as her eyes narrowed. "It’s almost as if you taught him not to. Trained him to stay back in moments like this so you could look more... gallant in front of my host."

Arabella paused, lips curling slightly, not in amusement, but disdain.

"To be perfectly honest, I don’t like it," she said. "There was someone like you before. Pretending to be devoted. Making themselves look noble, trustworthy, safe."

Her tone darkened.

"They convinced my old host they were on her side. And when things fell apart, they were the first to betray her. The first to throw her to the wolves."

She stepped closer, her voice now almost a whisper, laced with venom. "I don’t forget things like that. And I don’t trust patterns when they repeat."

Isabelle backed away but the cruel Arabella didn’t move to follow her. "Don’t worry," she smiled with a beam, "I would kill you but perhaps not now, not when my host still believes that you are nice. But count your days short if you ever try to use her as a weapon. Regardless whether my host want it or not, I promise I’ll kill you even if it is the last thing I have to do."

A new wave of fear seeped into Isabelle’s heart as she nodded her head to Arabella, promising her quietness.

Then suddenly, Arabella turned to look behind her and hum, "I could hear a baby’s cry- and the bell tolling," she then tapped under her elbow, "Seems like the hunt has ended."

Meanwhile at the front of the castle, a lone man had dragged his bloodied clothes.

Cassius had chosen the wrong outfit today. He should have chosen black, or maybe he should have chosen red.

Instead, he had chosen brown which caused for all the blood covering his body to be more visible.

But deep down he knew- he knew that wasn’t the only reason why everyone who had greeted him outside the castle had immediately winced in horror of his sight and backed away as though he was a plague.

The servant who had been tending to the vase almost dropped the expensive furniture upon lifting her chin up and finding Cassius whose body was covered in holes- holes. Gaping holes.

Not only one or two, but five, all over his stomach.

It was to the point that the servant could see through Cassius’s body, to see the floor nearby and in horror, she had screamed, calling for the servants with a higher stature than her to come-

"THE CROWN PRINCE IS IN DANGER!"

But Cassius didn’t stop, he continued to drag his beaten and bloodied body, pushing aside all the other soldiers who had tried to stop him for fear that if he continue to push forward he would instead keel over and die on the way.

"Where is the hunt?" Cassius growled, his voice rough, hoarse from wear but burning with rage. The silence around him trembled with the weight of his fury.

Then, his composure cracked.

"WHERE’S THE FUCKING HUNT?!" he roared, the force behind his voice like a storm breaking loose, raw, and volatile.