Chapter 150: Next Step III
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"Master can feel," she whispered, suspicious now. "The master is like witch."
Sekhmet stared at her.
"I am not a witch," he said.
Bat Bat pointed at Elena.
"Elena is witch," Bat Bat corrected confidently. "Elena makes Bat Bat write. That is curse."
Elena lifted one eyebrow.
Bat Bat instantly shut up again and yawned a second time.
Elena stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Bat Bat’s shoulder.
"You will stay with me tonight," Elena said.
Bat Bat’s eyes snapped open.
"No," she protested immediately. "Bat Bat sleeps with Master. Master is a safe bed. Elena bed is homework bed."
Elena did not blink.
"Yes," Elena replied.
Bat Bat turned to Sekhmet desperately, wings fluttering.
"Master," she pleaded, "tell Elena no."
Sekhmet looked at Bat Bat, then looked at Elena. Then he spoke calmly.
"Bat Bat will sleep with Elena tonight," Sekhmet said.
Bat Bat’s face crumpled like tragedy made into flesh.
"You betray Bat Bat again," she whispered.
Sekhmet did not flinch.
"You need rest," he said. "You need homework to grow faster."
Bat Bat’s voice rose.
"Homework is my enemy," she shouted.
Elena’s expression remained calm.
"Homework is friend," Elena said.
Bat Bat glared.
"Friend is also enemy sometimes," she muttered.
Elena looked at Sekhmet.
"She will come," Elena said. "Even if I carry her."
Bat Bat’s eyes widened with horror.
Sekhmet decided to end the debate before Bat Bat tried to bite someone.
"Go," Sekhmet said firmly.
Bat Bat looked like she might cry. Then she puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms.
"I will go," she said, voice full of dramatic dignity. "But Bat Bat remember."
Sekhmet nodded.
"That is fine," he replied.
Bat Bat took two steps, then stopped and pointed at Sekhmet again, because Bat Bat could never leave without the last word.
"Master," she said, "if you eat alone, Bat Bat will be angry."
Sekhmet replied without emotion.
"That is a reasonable consequence," he said.
Bat Bat seemed satisfied by the seriousness of his answer.
Then Elena took Bat Bat by the hand and began leading her away.
Bat Bat dragged her feet as if each step was a funeral for freedom.
"Elena," Bat Bat complained, "why you always win."
Elena’s voice floated back calmly.
"Because I am older," she said.
Bat Bat whispered fiercely.
"That is cheating," she muttered.
Their voices faded down the corridor.
The hall became quieter again.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly.
The moment Bat Bat left, Elena’s calm face returned to the blood on Sekhmet’s shirt.
She stepped closer again.
"Remove that," Elena said. "Before you pretend you are fine and collapse in my hallway."
Sekhmet did not collapse.
But the poison tugged inside him as if it heard Elena’s suggestion and found it amusing.
He kept his face controlled.
"I will bathe," he said.
Elena nodded.
"I will have the servants prepare a bath," she replied instantly, already turning into commander mode.
Sekhmet stopped her with one word.
"Elena," he said.
She paused.
Sekhmet’s gaze held hers.
"I told you not to worry," he said quietly.
Elena’s eyes narrowed.
"That is not how I work," she replied.
Sekhmet did not argue. He simply nodded once, accepting that Elena’s worry was not negotiable.
A servant approached cautiously, bowing.
Elena spoke to him without raising her voice.
"Hot bath," Elena ordered. "Clean cloth. New clothes. Herbs for muscle recovery."
The servant nodded rapidly and hurried away.
Sekhmet turned and walked deeper into the house, toward the bath chambers.
As he walked, he kept his posture steady and normal, not because he believed it, but because it helped him keep the poison from becoming a visible weakness.
He reached the bath room.
Steam already gathered, because Dawn House servants were trained in speed the way soldiers were trained in war. Water filled a large stone tub, herbs floating on the surface, releasing a scent that tried to convince the body it was safe.
Sekhmet removed his shirt.
The candlelight showed the truth.
Bruises along ribs.
A puncture near shoulder.
A slice along hip.
Most of it had knitted closed.
But the skin still held purple shadows, the kind you could not fully heal with blood alone.
He stared at the marks for a moment, then looked away.
He stepped into the bath.
Hot water wrapped him.
For half a breath, it almost felt like relief.
Then the poison reacted to heat, flaring into a cold sting beneath his skin, like a snake that did not want to be cooked.
Sekhmet’s fingers tightened on the tub’s edge.
He did not make a sound.
He breathed slowly instead, controlling chaos energy, forcing it to circulate, forcing it to press the toxin down.
He washed carefully.
Blood came off in the water, turning it pink for a moment before the herbs swallowed the color.
He scrubbed his hair.
He scrubbed his hands.
He scrubbed under his nails.
Not because blood disgusted him.
Because blood left evidence.
And evidence invited questions.
When he finished, he stepped out.
A servant waited with towels and fresh clothing, eyes lowered respectfully.
Sekhmet dried himself, dressed, and dismissed the servant with a quiet nod.
The poison was still there.
But quieter again.
Manageable for now.
He left the bath chamber and walked toward his study.
As he walked, his mind shifted into its usual cold planning.
The Iron House had sent assassins.
Dickon had escalated.
That meant rumors were not enough anymore.
That meant the next moves would not stay in shadows.
And Sekhmet had brought three new pieces onto the board.
Mira.
Vera.
Vela.
He needed to speak with the twins first.
Not as concubines.
Not as purchases.
As tools.
As future protectors.
As future vampires, though that truth stayed locked behind his teeth.
He reached the study door and entered.
The room smelled like books, ink, and quiet ambition. The desk was clean. The candlelight was warm. The walls held shelves filled with ledgers and old records from Dawn House, the kind of records that could build empires or destroy them depending on whose hands held them.
Sekhmet sat behind the desk.
He waited.
A servant appeared at the doorway.
"Young master," the servant said.
"Bring the twins," Sekhmet replied.