Chapter 511 - Vespucci Villa Ⅱ (1/2)
Returning her gaze in front of her, Tiffany's hand subconsciously tightens around that of Emalia's. The two young women wander in silence through the Vespucci gardens with Emalia leading them down many small paths in the direction of the stables. Every now and they pause to admire a beautiful flower, before moving until they reached the edge of the gardens near the stable.
A piercing female scream suddenly splits the evening air causing both girl's heads to whirl up, before clasping their skirts up and running towards the source of the sound. The screams abruptly cut off with a chilling silence now in place. From inside the Vespucci manor, a.d.u.l.ts begin to pour out onto the grounds like ants all heading towards the source.
Breathless at this point with their hair in utter disarray, but neither young woman genuinely cared as Tiffany and Emalia rounded the corner of the open stable doors. The two young women come to a frozen halt in sheer shock. Emalia weakly falls onto her knees and covers her mouth with one hand as she faintly mutters, ”Dio Mio, Vasco!”
Tiffany loudly gulps holding back the urge to vomit and covers her mouth with her hand not trusting herself to not make a sound and throw up. However, she is unable to clench her eyes shut as she continues to observe the horrifying scene before her. It was that of her betrothed with Carina, his lover killed and caught in the middle of a tryst.
The young man's white button shirt is still on, but completely open in the front. His trousers were on the ground around his ankles with at present his body slumped onto the corpse of his now-dead lover beneath him. Thankfully, his pale, white arse is still modesty covered by the trains of his white shirt.
The female in question's upper bodice is pressed down revealing her blood-soaked b.r.e.a.s.ts. While her skirts are up and bunched around her waist, where her male lover had hastily shoved ahem up and out of the way, to do her so to speak. In this fairly intimate act, and awkward position is how the romantic duo had been caught and killed with their throats being slit open.
Swallowing loudly, Tiffany suddenly realized the acute danger they were in. Glancing anxiously around, Tiffany tugs Emalia roughly to her feet and whispers, ”Let us go. We do not know who and where the killer has gone!”
Emalia to numb and shocked at seeing her only sibling dead at her feet does not react beyond letting out a loud wailing sound. Tiffany almost slaps the young woman across the face in fear and fury for calling attention to them. However, understanding the current emotional, near-catatonic state of Emalia, Tiffany somehow manages to haul Emalia to her feet with a rather loud grunt.
The loud crunching sound of a boot behind them caused the hairs on the back of Tiffany's neck to stand on end as she whirls her head around all the while still holding the sobbing figure of Emalia up. Tiffany's eyes widen in terror as she sees the figure of a young man standing between them and the exit.
The young man in question is a rather attractive youth roughly around the age of Emalia. He has a rather suave, sophisticated air about him ruined by the effect of his wild, crazed eyes. It was though looking at a cornered wild animal that did not know what to do, nor much less how to react except to attack. But even more disconcerting is the spray of crimson wet across his elegant clothes causing the still drying red droplets of blood to appear rather vivid against the white collar of his shirt, and his face.
”Emalia,” the unknown murderer whispered with a French accent. ”I did not 'izh to do diz, but your broduer touched, my Carina. 'Ow could dey? My Carina told me zee loved me. And yet 'ere I 'ave found 'er like a p.r.o.s.t.i.t.u.t.e 'ith 'er legz zepread 'ide open!”
Emalia merely lets out a loud whimper as her legs turn into limp noodles and flopped onto the ground with great teardrops pouring down her face. Emalia is much too shocked to speak only letting out a scared whimper, before clutching Tiffany's skirt in fear refusing to let go.
Tiffany's own eyes are wide with fear, but she takes a deep breath, before trying to imitate Bethanie's soothing tone of voice. ”Monsieur, I completely understand,” Tiffany gently said as she held her palms out to him to show that she is unarmed and poses no danger to him.
”Liez!” The young murderer roared wildly in fury. ”All 'omen ar' liarz!”
”I beg to differ, Monsieur,” Tiffany slickly interjected. ”For you see, Monsieur, that young man whom you just have slain is my betrothed, Vasco Vespucci. And much like yourself and your Carina, my betrothed to has betrayed me with her.”
The young murder's wand is slightly lowered at hearing her words. Looking much more uncertain now, the young murderer says, ”Mademoiselle iz betrothed to dis cur?”
”Yes,” Tiffany replied. ”My name is Tiffany Topsy and we have been betrothed since my second year.”