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At the Festival
Samantha glanced briefly at the ring on her finger and allowed herself a tiny grin. Of the entire outfit her husband had convinced her to wear, this was the only accessory she actually liked. The young woman wore a knee-length dress that hugged her body in the right places, but it was covered in a hideous scarlet floral pattern. Sam’s only comfort was that she was able to wear the ring, which she always wore. It had a basic, elegant design, and the ruby resting on top always caught her eye. It reminded her of blood, and Sam loved the sight of blood.
Michael, her husband, rolled his eyes as he watched her coo at the piece of jewelry. “Samantha,” he stated deliberately, “I love you with all of my heart, but we have a job to do, remember?”
Sam looked around, listening to everybody around them. “I really doubt anyone’s gonna show up.”
“Going to,” Michael replied absently. A group of young girls passed by in dresses similar to Samantha’s.
“What was that?” the aforementioned woman snapped.
“You doubt anyone’s going to show up. I know you feel little love for the English language, but try to show some respect,” The raven-haired man grabbed her hand as an acoustic guitar played a snappy little tune. “Shall we dance?” he murmured, “It really has been too long since we last enjoyed an outing with just the two of us.”
“I thought we had a job to do, Mr. Gentleman,” Samantha teased, blowing a copper lock out of her face.
Michael chuckled, “A true gentleman can mix work and play together, remember? Besides, you look amazing in that dress, and you blend in perfectly.”
“I don’t care about blending in, I still hate you for this,” she growled. Nevertheless, she let herself be led by the growing crowd to the center of the square. The couple moved contentedly past the other dancers as one staccato song played after another. Neither of them really knew the steps to the fast-paced dance, but they improvised by watching their neighbors.
Then, all of a sudden, a shrill scream rang through the air. After a few seconds, the coppery scent of blood filled the air, clogging Samantha’s nostrils. A nervous whisper spread throghout the crowd as everybody tried to figure out what happened. Many dancers, those who were closer to the incident rushed in the opposite direction with a wild look in their eyes.
The small woman allowed herself a little smile before turning to Michael. “I guess you were right, dear,” she whispered. Then, Sam sped off towards the source of the smell, reaching down her back for a concealed dagger. After all, she had a job to do; not to mention the fact that she loved the sight of blood.