Dirk looked at the monocle for the tenth time in the hour. It was still dark whenever he willed it to show Zyrdicia. He had expected his wife to be at home waiting for him when he returned from Bethel's cottage.

The Witch had not been there, of course. Bethel was many things, but she was not stupid. She had left a Grox waiting for him. He had slain the great, horned, filthy monster easily enough, but the sentiment was not lost on him. Before he left, he repaid it by setting her home ablaze.

By the time he returned to Castle Blackpool, he was in a very grim mood. His rage was spent, and a brooding darkness settled over him. The one person whose company he desired was now out of the castle without his permission.

She was refusing to respond to his telepathic query. He knew she heard his call. For some unfathomable reason, she dared to ignore him.

He wondered idly whether she was angry about the words they had shared after Greystone escaped. Her femininity made it impossible to predict when she was due for a childish, emotional outburst. Tonight, though, he was beyond caring.

If she wanted to run away and pout, he could not care less. After all, this time he knew she would come back. Her disappearances no longer evoked the slightest fear that she would be gone for good. He knew her too well for that now. His grip on her psyche was better than solid, he mused; it was unbreakable. Whatever senseless outbursts she might have, she was his. He knew it - and more importantly, he was certain that she did too.

He brooded alone, nursing a large snifter of brandy while he waited. Minutes slowly turned to hours.

21.6.1

At day break, one of the city guards from Geshna arrived at Castle Blackpool with word of a bloodbath at Zyrdicia's temple. Some magical force had attacked, blasting away the south side of the new edifice and massacring the construction workers. The screams of the dying had been audible all the way down the hill in the city proper. No one dared approach the site to see the demon that had caused it.

Dirk knew perfectly well that there was only one creature in all of Karteia capable of such destruction - and he was married to her. The mystery of her whereabouts was now solved.

He departed for Geshna on horseback at once. The ride to the city from the castle took less than an hour, but at this time of morning, it was viciously cold. Annoyed at the inconvenience of her tantrum, he cursed her silently the entire way.

21.7

Zyrdicia stretched luxuriously near the edge of a pit of hellfire in her temple. Her gaze travelled around the temple languidly, taking in the scene without really seeing it. She yawned lazily, laying on her side upon the smooth, black, polished stone surrounding the magical fire pit. She found the infernal flames' nearness soothing.

Her nausea was less than it had been the first time she had consumed this much blood. Now she mostly felt uncomfortably stuffed and sleepy. And, of course, cold. The heat of the blood she consumed seemed to accent her own body's chill as the winter air poured into the temple. The leather she wore did nothing to keep the icy sensation at bay.

With no life left in the room, the blood hunger faded quickly. She was fully sated. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the strength of the souls of the dead captive in her digestive system. It felt magnificent - pure power, the power of a creature higher in the cosmic food chain than its chosen prey. Here in her temple, with a body filled with devoured mortal souls, in a land all too ready to worship her, at this instant she felt a flickering affinity for the immortal aspect of her being. "I love being a god!" she moaned quietly.

Her reflection on her meal stopped abruptly when she heard a footstep at the temple's main entrance. She sniffed the air quickly, identifying the intruder at once. She recognized the scent at once.

"Hi."

"You're late."

"You have no idea how angry I am," Dirk whispered frostily.

"Like I care. It's your fault, after all."

She turned to look at him then. To him, her face looked dazed, even inebriated. Her eyes lacked focus. Blood stained her lips and chin. Her arms and hands were covered in it.

"My fault?" he demanded, incredulous.

"You left me to go kill Bethel. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't left me alone."

Dirk blinked in surprise. "You did this because you are jealous that I went to hunt the Witch!"

Zyrdicia rolled her eyes as though the idea were silly. She turned away from him, turning her body to face the flames in the pit. She asked sullenly, "Did she suffer?"

Dirk stared at Zyrdicia, speechless. She was jealous - of him hurting another woman. Despite his foul mood, he found the notion strangely endearing. He carefully masked such sentiment, and noted coldly, "You disobeyed me."

"Of course I did," she answered, sounding bored. "It's what I do when I'm left alone. Ask Azriok."

Dirk's eyes blazed. She was murderously irritating. He grimaced in frustration. It was too soon to tell whether it was merely a minor set back or the undoing of weeks of careful training. Her petty rationalization of it irked him. No one in their right mind could expect as much attention as she demanded.

She smiled knowingly, "I only obey you only when you amuse me, you know. It's a game that only lasts as long as I want it to. When you stop amusing me, the game is off and I do as I please."

She gestured to the carnage as though indicating this was the alternative. Her smug expression left no doubt that she would repeat this any time, any place she chose - including Castle Blackpool.

He looked around the room for the first time then. It was a slaughterhouse. The scene's deliberateness made it more gruesome than any battlefield. Every one of her victims had been ripped artfully to shreds and strewn about the room in bits. Like doll parts with which a frightful child had played too roughly, the corpses looked like horrifying toys.

He refused to look at her. In so many ways, she was far more monstrous than the Grox he had slain at Bethel's cottage. The demons who made her were clever to have hidden that in such a beautiful frame, masking it with deceptive innocence.

Zyrdicia sat up then, her long, leather-clad legs dangling over the edge of low the stone wall upon which she sat. Her expression was petulant and fully devoid of contrition - but also eerily devoid of malice as she followed his gaze to her most recent destruction.

She frowned when Dirk turned to look at the gaping whole where the south wall of the temple should have been. Massive stone blocks had been burst asunder and scattered out into the snow-covered landscape.

"That part was a magical accident," she pouted. "Blowing up part of my own temple was not part of my plan."

"You've made your taste for blood very hard for me to continue to hide," Dirk growled. "Did you set out deliberately to thwart me?"

"Of course not. It was all caused by a demon sent by Vector and Bethel to thwart us both." She lied in a disturbing mockery of perfect, wide-eyed candor.

Dirk studied at the absurdly innocent expression on her face. Even in such a state, she could formulate cogent, persuasive lies, and pass them off with angelic guilelessness. It was as though lying was pure instinct.

Annoyed with her as he was, it was still difficult not to find it charming. She looked eerily pretty sitting amid the carnage. He frowned, resenting his inability to hold on to any emotion but affection as he stared at her.

But despite her eyes' glitter, his errant pet looked weary. Her bare hands reached out to touch the hellfire's flames, letting the flickering tongues caress her skin. She shivered, despite the hellfire's searing heat.

"I want to go home now," she sighed.

"Of course you do," he smirked coldly.

21.7.1

By the time they reached Castle Blackpool, the cold, morning sun was already bright. Whatever bliss Zyrdicia had experienced at the temple quickly evaporated. The awful coldness that settled into her flesh brought with it an achy weariness. The sense of Sephiroth godliness that lasted a few moments cost her hours of physical misery as her human body reacted to the experience.

It felt like crashing from the glorious high of a dangerously addictive, magical drug. The promise of another fix lingered in the back of her mind. She glanced over her shoulder surreptitiously at Dirk, smelling his blood's scent across the room. His heartbeat pounded in her ears, daring her.

Every time she tasted the wondrous crimson fluid now, it was more intense. She heaved a ragged sigh and closed her eyes against the sun's light streaming in from a window.

Dirk gazed at her silently. He realized now that it was foolish to expect that she would not to kill at all outside his presence. He might as well expect her not to breathe. His work with her in the dungeon left her unprepared for the temptation when she was alone.

He took great pains with commands to her in the context of his play with the blood hunger. He wanted them obeyed all the time, every time. Ordering her not to kill when she was alone would be to order something she could never fulfil. It would undermine the perfection of his method. He feared it might also undermine his fragile authority over her permanently.

He commanded, "Outside my presence, henceforth, you may only kill with magic - no blood."

Another shiver ran down Zyrdicia's spine. She remembered the faint taste of his blood suddenly. She licked her lips, focussing on the memory. "Mm."

"What?" he frowned.

"The smell of your blood sloshing in your veins right now -- I think I want it."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes."

"After all that in the temple, I should think you had quite enough."

"Unless you want to die, you should leave."

"How dare you!"

"Just get the fuck out!" she snapped.

One look at her eyes was enough to warn him that this was no night to trifle with her. Whatever hold the demons had on her right now was too strong. He sensed that if he tested his control over her at this moment, he might very well lose.