Panther Hunt

Morello beckons for us to continue towards the Del Pey Mansion. After we walk for some time, he breaks the silence. "Please forgive me, my dear Arturia. It is your passion as much as it is mine to see the Grants dead, every last one of them. When I lost my Mama to brain cancer, brain stem tumor, that was what they called it—Paul was there. He stayed around. He became the only person I had in the world that I could call family. That was till you came along, my dear Arturia." All the playful air and hysteria of the race has disappeared from Morello's manner. He has countlessly told me this story of how his and my father's brotherhood was born. It seems this is one of those evenings that stories are retold, but today the words don't feel the same. They are heavier, they are more urgent. "Father would have been forty-five last month. Of course, he'd no longer be built like a greek god, but I wonder what he would have been like now. When he turned thirty, he was so upset that he didn't

"Yes. Yes. That's absolutely right." Jules is pleasantly surprised. Jasper Grant's stare is unwavering, just clinical and unreadable. The man's feline almond eyes piercing through mine, have no trace of known ground—it's all uncharted territory. If it could all go down now, I can't afford any stumble. It all has to end on my terms. "You know, mademoiselle Michelle, for all his gracelessness, Jasper has quite the sharp mind. Well versed in history and the humanities. It might interest you to know that he once had a brilliant career as a lawyer. He rather got his mother's brains," Jules blurts, chuckling. There's no stopping him, when he breaks into his unending flight of thoughts. Apparently irritated at being the subject of discussion, Jasper Grant looks away to the incoming waiters with trays of food. On seeing the food trays, Jules gives a jubilatory clap. "Isn't that lovel—" The left lens of Jules's glasses explodes, his head snaps back and blood spurts from his left eye. Two

All the unease vanishes from Jasper's demeanor and is completely replaced by rage. He becomes still, so still that his muscles are visibly tense. Jasper's face contorts into his characteristic devouring look. The only thing between Jasper and Theodore getting torn apart, is a single pounce. Theodore, of course, is not about to miss this. He unhesitatingly points a silver printed gun at Jasper, now frowning himself. "Don't get any foolish ideas, Jasper. I could kill you early. Doesn't make any difference to me. But wouldn't you like to wait and see what I have in store for you?" "You killed Jules! You killed your own father. You vile—you freak," Jasper says, visibly shaken. This is the first time Jasper expresses anything about Jules's murder; all night, he has been cool and aloof. Theodore smiles in surprise. "Is that pain I hear in your voice, Jasper? So moving. Jules Gerald's favourite boy, grieving him. The old man's dead heart must be touched. But man, what's this weak-