Senses B4C13

"What, then? Is it the sacrifices? The negativity?"

"That is merely to capture my attention," Salem said. "Think of it as the price of summoning me. Merlot sacrificed those animals atop a mountain of snow, but he made a mistake. He killed them slowly and in front of their loved ones, and as their minds shattered and their despair settled in, they ceased to feel the same range of emotions." She sighed and waved one hand in the air. "Silly little man. On the other hand, his betrayal of a woman who loved him dearly was more than enough to catch my interest." Her eyes narrowed. "And my ire."

"Your ire? Why? You're a Grimm."

"I am Grimm, as you have so eloquently pointed out. Negativity is sustenance to us, but for one such as I, the exact type can make all the difference. I prefer my betrayal to have a tint of anger, but hers came with memories, despair and sadness." Her face twisted. "I did not like. It tasted of love."

That was it? That was the sole reason she'd turned Merlot into a monster and robbed him of his mind? It seemed unbelievably cruel, and unbelievably puerile as well. And yet… I wasn't dealing with someone who was human, so why try to understand her in human terms? Childish as it may have been and vengeful as she was, that might just be normal to her.

The thought made me shiver, especially the idea that she had tastes as to what kind of pain she enjoyed the most.

"I see your disgust, but it is a different matter to one such as I. The exact flavour of one's pain is what truly counts. Tyrian is a particularly beautiful example."

"You weren't summoned by the sacrifices," I realised. "You were summoned by his grief."

"Well done, Deceiver. You are not as foolish as you appear."