Walking Delusions
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DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
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3,106
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
3,106
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter Thirteen: Facing Judgement
a/n: Greetings! I return with another chapter. This one was supposed to have a smutty scene in it but for some reason, it never got written. I intend to go back and finish it one of these days, as soon as my writer's block decides to end.
Anyways, glad to see that I still have some readers. Special thanks to Miss. Corruption for her review. I really appreciated it and I loved it! As for the ending, I won't spoil anything. I will, however, say that I am quite proud of the way I finished out the story. Thanks so much for stopping to leave me your words.
Now onto the chapter!
Chapter Thirteen: Facing Judgment
Fiery passion of night's delight,
Lost in the wonder of his eyes,
Dreaming, fluttering open wide.
I am chased by talking shadows,
Burning ichor hot on my neck,
Beaded sweat of anxiety rest,
Swallowing thickly, only lies on my tongue.
Standing on the pedestal of judgment comes,
Things I've done, thought, or wasted,
Blood splattering morbidly within marble halls.
I picked my bow and arrows up from the ground and the both of us ambled towards the fire. I felt the full intensity of their stares but mustered all of my feelings of no shame and managed to meet their eyes evenly. As I dropped down into a cross-legged seat in front of the blaze, a movement that looked clumsier than anything, Melath further embarrassed me by sitting gracefully. I sighed and idly patted my still useless bow and arrow at my side.
"I see that your aim is no better than your wit," Ivory snarked, looking up at me. She held her wooden bowl in her hand, calming scooping the warm and aromatic stew that Ryou had brewed into her mouth.
I narrowed my eyes. "I've never held a weapon before in my life. So sue me."
"It just takes time, Miss Anne," Ryou inserted smoothly, attempting to end the argument before it even began. I was initially surprised that he had spoken at all. "You can't expect to be a master at it from the beginning."
"That's putting it gently." Ivory snorted beneath her breath.
I ignored her. It was strange how Ivory could go from barely speaking to constantly criticizing me and everything I did. Maybe she needed to get comfortable around me or that I had done something to set her off. Either way, I was certain she was no docile, sugary-sweet young lady.
"Thanks, Ryou," I replied, leaning over to accept the bowl of stew he offered me. My stomach rumbled hungrily at just the scent of the brew, all meaty and flavorful. Yum.
His brown eyes shone for a moment. "If you would like," he suggested quietly, the firelight making strange eerie shadows on his face. "I can teach you some self-defense maneuvers. Hand-to-hand, that sort of thing."
The man was brilliant. Even if I couldn't use my bow, that sort of knowledge would come in handy. "Sure," I responded as I nodded my head.
Ryou beamed, significantly happier than he had been recently and slightly resembling a puppy offered its first bone. Did my acceptance really mean that much to him? It was a strange concept to me, this friendship thing. I was usually a loner due to my eccentric nature. In short, people irritated me. Or was that humanity in general?
Idiotic. Hypocritical. Backstabbing, conniving beings like parasites crawling around on the Earth's surface, our only purpose to maim and destroy, not even limiting our actions from each other. Whatever we create, we destroy. If it's beautiful, we taint it with our despair, our hatred, and our jealousies. Sometimes, I hated being a member of that race, that belonging to the human scum was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me.
“What do you think to find in those mountains?” Vincent demanded, pulling me from my mental stupor.
My eyes shot up, locking with his and meeting a completely impassive expression. Though I could see a storm brewing behind his eyes.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly, unable to come up with a better lie quickly. I’d never been real good at it. “All I know is that the Great One told me to follow my dreams.”
Follow my dreams. It sounded like some pathetic attempt at encouraging a high school class of seniors. A mantra to persuade me to succeed, to believe in things beyond my own abilities and myself. Everyone knew that wishes didn’t come true, but that didn’t stop them from trying their damndest anyways. I once thought that way too, when I was young and naive and hopeful. Now I knew better, I knew that dreams only came true for those who already had anything they could ever need.
I could always reach for the stars, but never get any further than the ground. Life wasn’t paid for with hope, and magical rays of sunshine didn’t come down and grant my wishes. The world was harsh and cruel, selfish and hateful, and you learned to survive with what you had. Learned to accept what you wouldn't ever know, and move on, hoping that maybe one day, you would finally get to rest.
“We’re following dreams?” Ivory's brow show up in disbelief as she scooped up a spoonful of stew. Her gaze flickered to Melath. “You honestly think there’s any profit in dreams?”
The elfin man didn’t look at her; however, he turned his steady eyes on me, something burning deep in their cerulean orbs. “Not all profit is treasure, Ivory.” And just the way he said those words made goosebumps prickle over my skin.
She snorted, shooting him a disgusted look as she dropped her dirty dishware to the ground and rose to her feet. “I’m going to sleep.” She sniffed. “Wake me up for the second watch. Those bastard Rajab might come back and slit our throats in our sleep.” With that, she stormed past towards her bed roll and dropped down on it with little grace.
“She is upset,” Ryou commented unnecessarily, his nearly untouched food sitting on the ground in front of him. Odd, considering he was normally a voracious eater. Why was everyone suddenly acting so strange?
“Don’t say stupid things, Ryou,” Vincent snipped, shooting the monk a look.
Ryou immediately cowed and closed his mouth, slumping down and if it were possible, pulling further into himself. Well, at least one thing hadn’t changed; Vincent was still being a ruthless bastard. Ryou kept his gaze trained on the fire as he began to clean up the results of his cooking and gathering up the dirtied cookware, including Ivory’s and his own abandoned meal.
He was the perfect example of a doormat for this group, and for that reason alone, I was angry. He did not deserve to be treated that way, especially when it seemed he was the only decent one among them. I didn’t know what Ryou thought he owed them, but it was certainly not anything to warrant that rudeness.
Beside me, Melath narrowed his eyes, instantly locking his gaze on the dark-haired man across the fire from him. Vincent met him evenly, unflinching. A moment of tense silence passed where I held my breath, wondering at the outcome and Ryou pretended nothing was occurring.
Finally, with an irritated scowl, Vincent shot to his feet. He tossed his bowl towards the fire and turned on his heel, heading into the forest and some unknown destination. I shivered unconsciously at the look in his face, a strange emotion flitting through his golden eyes. The fire sputtered and hissed as it licked at the bowl and burned the wooden dish, almost a testament to his current state of mind.
Well, that was certainly an interesting dinner. We were just one big happy family, weren’t we?
“Ryou, leave those,” Melath ordered, drawing my attention back towards him. The monk looked up in surprise. I did, too.
“Vincent will get them when he comes back.”
I raised a brow at this as Ryou gaped in shock. Vincent? Handle the cookware? I was half expecting hell to freeze over. I looked around me, above me, waiting for the strike of lightning or the pigs to fly. Vincent was anything but domestic. Hell, not even Ivory was domestic. They left all those responsibilities to Ryou, kind but gentle Mr. Doormat.
“It’s no trouble,” the monk responded, somehow managing not to stutter as his gaze flickered to me, looking slightly concerned. Did he fear Vincent’s wrath?
Melath inclined his head. “Your wound is breaking open, Ryou. I’ll get Vincent to do it.”
Immediately, Ryou’s hands went to his waist, and it wasn’t until then that I saw the dark patch of his robes, glistening wetly. Why hadn’t he told me that he was hurt? And when had that happened? Did I miss something? I looked up at him in concern, feeling as if I should have noticed. As much as he had done for me, I should have been there helping him, wrapping his wounds for him. But I wasn’t. Instead, I was flirting with Melath.
He caught my concern and at once tried to reassure me. He nodded as he idly patted the wound, unable to help his wince.
“It’s quite alright Miss Anne. Just a small scratch. I just can’t believe I let that primitive through my guard.” He smiled, but it was thin and strained. I couldn’t tell if it was from pain or from something else entirely. Such as whatever it was that had been bothering him through dinner.
“Do you need help?” I prompted, my eyes flickering from his wound to his face. For the moment, I completely forgot about Melath.
How that was possible, even I’m not sure, but for once in my life, those motherly and nurturing instincts I had been suppressing decided to rise to the surface. “I don’t know anything about wounds but I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.”
A brown gaze slid to Melath before Ryou shook his head, one hand still pressed to the wound. “No, I can handle it Miss Anne. I think I’ll just... turn in for the night.” Another weak smile, one that did not encourage me in the slightest.
I tilted my head to the side and regarded him curiously. Why was he acting so strange? “All right, Ryou. Good night.”
“To you the same,” he replied before turning on his heels and limping slightly towards his bedroll, edged close to the half-crumbling wall for protection from the somewhat chilly wind that was blowing off of the mountain. I watched his exit with an inquisitive gaze.
Ryou was the sort of man who baffled me. He traveled with a group of what appeared to be blood-thirsty killers; yet, he was kind. Rarely did I see him display any sort of backbone, except in battle. He deferred to the others in all things, unless it concerned my welfare, then he would argue until he had no more words. He seemed so innocent and young, the type of person I felt I had to protect, despite the fact that I knew he was far more skilled than I was. Like he needed my aid.
“Do not be fooled by appearances; he is every bit the killer as the rest of us,” Melath uttered lowly, drawing my attention back towards him.
I swiveled my head towards the elf sitting rather close beside me, his presence a constant emanation at my side. My jaw gaped in slight surprise, wondering if he had read my mind.
Melath shook his head, something shining in his blue eyes. “No, I cannot read minds. The question was all over your face.” He paused, shifting as he regarded me with the full strength of his stare. “Because he has cared for you, you see him as the smallest threat, but take heed, he’s killed just as many, if not more.”
I couldn’t decide whether or not Melath was trying to warn me away from Ryou to make himself look better, or if he just felt it was his duty to enlighten my ignorance. Either way, I flushed as guilt hit me because honestly, my hands were no less blood-stained.
“I’ve joined the ranks, then.”
He laughed quietly, that same, soft, musical tone that shivered down my spine, eyes dancing. “Slaying one Rajab out of self-defense hardly counts as murder. You’re still just a babe.” Yet, the lust radiating from his form implied that he thought of me as anything but.
It made me angry, for him to dismiss my one attempt at killing when it tore so steadily at me on the inside. I had taken someone else's life, no matter the reason. Nausea settled inside of my belly every time I thought about it. Was my life truly worth living? But before I could respond to Melath’s words, he spoke up again, an entirely new edge to his voice and gaze.
“I don’t think you mind our blood-stained hands, do you, Anne? I think the brief flash of danger... excites you.” His tone dropped to a low whisper. Quiet. Intentionally seductive. That man was pure eroticism; he knew exactly what buttons to push.
I snorted, trying to forestall the flush of heat that spread up my spine. “I don’t consider fighting for my life exciting.”
He raised a brow, an elegant move for one such as him. “Hmm, but I do.” Melath rose to his feet with his usual grace, holding out a hand to me and towering over my meager form. “Come.”
And suddenly, I felt very nervous. Knowing what he wanted, knowing what I wanted. The sheer illogic and irrationality of my situation. The events of the past few days flitting by like flashes of memory. I hesitated, cutting my gaze towards the fire, despite the screaming of my libido. I was attempting to put some sense back into my chaos, not that it was working, as I tried to free myself from the sensual spell that he was weaving over me with intoxicating cerulean eyes.
“Won’t the fire go out if you leave it untended?” I swallowed thickly.
I felt like a virgin on her wedding night for all the hesitance that consumed me. Oh, I wanted it. But something balked in me. My few precious morals? I didn’t really know. I struggled to work up the courage.
Melath looked down on me, amusement curling up the corners of his mouth. “Vincent will take care of it. He’s on watch.”
I could discern nothing of Vincent in the darkness, despite Melath’s words. The very fact that he was somewhere, watching for trouble, keeping an eye on us, was slightly unnerving. My gaze darted around for a moment as I rose to my feet, determined to find this shadowy watcher. Yet, I saw no sign of him. Vincent was like a ghost, molding into the darkness and flitting among the black until he was a mere shadow.
There was movement out of the corner of my eye and I turned my head to find Melath watching me curiously. “Is it he or I that unnerves you so?”
I blushed before I could help it. “Both,” I confessed. “I saw--"
Another raised eyebrow. “You saw?”
I shook my head. Melath was being purposefully sketchy about his and Vincent’s relationship. Well, that was fine. He could keep his secrets. So long as Vincent didn’t attack me on some possessive rampage, everything would be just fine. Though it did seem like Melath really was the one in charge, considering he owned Vincent. Gah, it was all so confusing.
“Nothing. It’s not important,” I inserted hastily, swallowing down my nervousness.
Every time I looked at him, heat spread through my body and I wanted to push Melath to the ground and have my way with him. Which contradicted with my attempts to make sense of the crazy and fucked-up turn my life had taken. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, though my libido sure made its opinions known.
He laughed again before holding out another hand. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
I kept my eyes on him, refusing to look at where I knew Ryou was still sitting up on his bedroll, wrapping his wound. I didn’t want to accidentally lock gazes with the monk, nor catch Ivory’s irritated glare. Or Vincent’s peering golden stare for that matter either. I took a deep breath, hid my apprehension and took his hand, allowing him to pull me towards his bedroll where it had been laid out earlier. Ryou must have done it. Or Vincent. At this point, I couldn’t be sure who the real doormat was or that it even mattered.
His hand was warm in mine, softer than it should have been, with only the hint of a callous on his palms. My eyes were locked on our joined fingers as I stumbled along after him with very little grace, shivering when a breath of cold wind seeped in through the cracked walls around us and tugged at my bared skin. The darkness encroached around our meager shelter and I felt it like a heavy presence beyond the firelight. I knew eyes were on me, could feel them boring into my skull and my body and I struggled to ignore them.
I could make my own choices. I was a grown woman. I knew what I wanted. And right now, I craved to taste Melath’s amber skin, wondering if it was as smooth as it looked. I remembered well the taste of his lips, the fresh flavor of his scent. I wondered if his blood would crumble to dust in my mouth like it did for Vincent and for once, the thought didn’t send me into curdles of revulsion as it usually did. Perhaps I was being numbed to everything, I really couldn’t say.
A tug on my hand brought me back to alertness and I looked up into amused crystalline eyes. I flushed under the intent stare, recognizing the heat reflected in them, the lingering gaze and the lustful way he licked his lips every so slowly, pink tongue glistening in the faint light of the fire that was behind us.
“Something more interesting?” he questioned, laughter faint in his tone. It was then that I noticed he was slowly but diligently peeling away the outer layer of his clothing, the long-sleeved over shirt and removing his boots, sending them to a scattered, disordered pile near his discarded pack.
I stared as his skin was slowly uncovered, caramel run smooth, almost perfect. I could detect the thin, white lines of scars from past battles. A particularly nasty one scraped over his right upper arm and shoulder.
Gods, he was beautiful. Certainly more than most women I had seen. While he wasn’t the pale moonlight of Vincent, he was easy enough on my eyes. A hunger coiled deep inside of me, a lusty desire to run my tongue over his flesh. My eyes dropped to his groin, the slight bulge resting there and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. I was a hedonist, true enough; I loved mutual pleasure.
The undershirt was pulled off as well, revealing more of his skin before he lowered himself to the ground, relaxing comfortably on his bed roll. Crystalline eyes looked up at me, smoldering with heat and desire for me. It made my legs turn to jelly, unable to believe my sheer luck. How he could look that way when faced with someone like me was beyond my comprehension. I was not naive about my looks. I wasn’t ugly just plain. No stunning beauty, more like what someone would call cute, girl-next-door sort of look. It completely baffled me.
“Care to join me?” he posed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He just sat there, one arm draped over a propped up knee, looking like some sort of sex god and asked me if I wanted to join him. Did I look like a fool?
I quickly shucked off my outer garments, the huge and bulky robe, glad that beneath I wore my under things, as well as a somewhat flimsy and sheer lingerie type thing that barely crested mid-thigh. I shivered as a gust of cold wind blew at me, trying to pretend that Ryou and Ivory weren’t somewhere on the other side of the fire and that golden eyes weren’t watching from some unknown location. I had no shame, but a lot of modesty.
I took one step towards Melath, but he moved faster than a striking snake, grabbing my arm and pulling me down before I could even utter a sound of surprise. I was quickly trapped beneath him as he perched above me, hands on either side of my head and knees on alternate sides of my hips. His hair was a fall of moonlight silver, tickling the left side of my face. It was so long, even for a ponytail, and it smelled like the ancient green and gold forest of the Great One. I wanted to bury my fingers and face in the silver strands, and I wondered if they were as downy and sleek as they looked.
I couldn’t help it when my hand raised of its own accord, entangling among the long strands in wonder as he looked down at me, something shining in his eyes. They were soft, incredibly so, like finely woven silk, ghosting through my fingers as if I touched something as gentle as water. I was almost child-like in my perusal of his hair, unable to look at anything else. Certainly not his hovering heat, like a presence against my barely clothed skin, or that tell-tale bulge between his thighs, scant inches above my own aching heat.
Why would he want someone like me? This statuesque form of beauty? Not only that, after seeing everything I’ve done, after having to save my sorry ass time and time again, and me doing nothing but yelling and running away over and over, why would he have interest? Surely women were not in that much short supply on Tears?
“You’re wondering why I’m here,” he commented, smooth voice flowing over my senses and dragging my wandering eyes back towards his face.
Well, he was partially correct. Because in all that, as a shiver raced down my spine and my hands stroked this hair, I also wondered what the hell I was doing there. I hadn’t solved any mysteries although I suppose I had learned to adapt, but still, there was a monster deep inside of me and everyone was acting strange. I was lost in an unknown world with no direction, yet I found the time to screw one of the few people that were trying to help me. Where were my priorities? Obviously flown right out the proverbial fucking window.
I shook my head at his statement. “No, I’m wondering why I’m here. It doesn’t make much logic and clearly, I’m out of my mind.” I paused, drawing a breath as I raked my gaze down the front of his chest.
Wide shoulders, golden skin, flat stomach that fairly rippled with muscle beneath the surface, a small line of silverish hair that dipped into the front of his pants that I so desperately wanted to follow with my tongue. I had to draw in another shuddery breath.
“I’m out of my mind but by God, I want it,” I breathed. “I want you,” I continued, starting to babble.
My mind swirled and whirled, bouncing about. Did I? Didn’t I? What could I trust? What was before my eyes or what I remembered, what I knew? Was this a dream? A reality? My future, the past? I didn’t know anymore.
Melath laughed lightly, leaning down closer to me, close enough that I could feel the warm puffs of his breath on my cheek. Beyond him I could see the stars glinting brightly in the night sky, making it all seem even more surreal. Not romantic, but unbelievably seductive. My breathing quickened as my pulse began to race and I squirmed beneath him. He hadn’t even touched me yet it felt as if a hot fire had spread across my body.
“The feeling seems to be mutual,” he purred.
His presence was above me, cool and washing like a spring rain, and enough to make me instantly aroused. His scent, his male musk, filtered to my nose and I couldn’t help it, I inhaled deeply, lost in it as if it were some type of drug. My hand twitched and before I knew it, my palm was ghosting over his chest, barely touching his flesh yet succeeding in feeding my addiction. Incredible soft, belying the hardened and strong nature of muscle beneath.
Still, something in me resisted. Perhaps that little bit of common sense in me that remained, or maybe something deeper, some higher power was trying to speak to me. I couldn’t say. I felt like I was in the wrong place, no matter how loudly my libido was screaming yes.
“But--"
I was cut off before I could finish my protest, not even sure what I was going to say anyways. “Anne, shut up.”
He dipped down the last few inches and kissed me. No, he didn’t just kiss me. He devoured my lips and my mouth, completely dominating. Fresh, renewed, like the forest again, his scent and flavor washed over me and unconsciously, I moaned into the kiss, mind swirling with lust and utter abandon.
My palm flattened over his chest, rubbing along the flat planes before sliding around the side of his body, trying to pull him closer. My hips arched off the bed roll, barely feeling the rocks beneath me and suddenly, I wanted him so badly that all reason seemed to leave, any modesty or common sense becoming little more than a distant memory.
I struggled to regain a grip on rationality when a sudden and sobering thought struck me. Real or not, I wasn’t having no one’s baby. And something told me that these people didn’t know what a condom was. I bemoaned the rubber that I usually kept in my book bag, something that hadn’t ‘crossed over’ or whatever the hell happened, with me.
He broke away from the kiss, lips gliding across my jaw to dip into the hollow of my throat and I managed to somehow gasp out the words. “But... I can’t... get pregnant,” I protested, though my hands said otherwise, curling about his upper body and desperately trying to pull him closer, to feel his heated flesh press against mine.
By the gods, I wanted to bite him, my mouth inevitably finding a column of amber flesh just before me. I ran my lips over it, half afraid that if I used my tongue, I would follow through with my desire to bite him. I didn’t know if it was my own want or the beast’s within me.
He paused in his movements, only long enough to utter a response. “You won’t,” he attempted to assure, lips moving back to my neck and creating a hot line of fire that raced directly down my spine.
“Y... you don’t know that,” I stuttered out, fingers pressing deeply into his amber skin as I bared my neck for his questing tongue and teeth. So damn good, I was drowning in his touch. By gods, breathing was overrated.
“I do,” he insisted, and I could hear the impatience in his voice. He wanted it as much as I did. “I’m infertile.”
That filtered through my lust-clogged brain like a shot to the head. I cocked my head to the side in confusion, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “Is that why you’re fallen?”
He looked up then and I caught the brief flash of hurt that crossed his face, swirling in crystalline orbs. If we hadn’t already been so close, I don’t think I would have caught it. The strange emotion flickered across the surface before he quickly clamped it down.
“No,” he denied. “That was my punishment.”
He closed his mouth on any further explanation, leaning down and swiftly overwhelming me with another kiss even as he moved to balance on one hand, surprisingly delicate fingers sliding along my thigh.
I could sense it in the almost desperate way he pressed his lips to mine. He wanted to forget; I wanted to forget. No more reminders of the pained past. We were both eager to get this tryst on. For at tryst it was. I didn’t believe anything more would come out of it.
His hand slid up my thigh and I moaned low in my throat, giving myself up to his lips and his touch, sliding deeper into a lust-filled fog of desire and surrender. I didn’t care about the consequences. The ears a few feet away. Golden eyes watching from some unknown perch. I didn’t stop to think of what would happen in the morning, or in the future. I didn’t think about what the others would say or how it might change things.
Selfish, perhaps, but in some ways, I needed it so badly. I needed to be reminded that something around me was real. And I needed the reminder in ways other than blood and pain.
It came as no surprise to me that I dreamed that night. I seemed to spend half my existence living in this half-state between awareness and imagining. I stopped trying to figure out what was real anymore and just settled for living, hoping that somewhere in the craziness of it all, something would hold fast and true. It was a meager hope, but I held fast.
A cold corona of light that did nothing to ease the chill settled deep in my bones shone down on me. It was dim yet blinding, obscuring my sight from the encroaching darkness all around me. I could see nothing beyond the small halo, it barely an arms length completely surrounding my form. But I knew something, someone, many someones, were out there watching me. I could feel their invisible stares and their invisible eyes. It made me shiver.
Chill air prickled across my skin and I shuddered, goose bumps raised, hair standing on end. It was so cold, that breath of wind, like the icy breezes from the northern mountains, carried over with the hint and promise of snow, a white winter, a white Christmas. But nothing so pure in front of me now. Not quite like the joy involved in a holiday season. Something here more dangerous, more... judging.
I stood, shoulders squared against an unknown foe, my hands clasped in front of me. No, not clasped, bound. With iron fetters that dug into my flesh, the pain not quite there, not yet enough to make me complain or cry out. I kept my silence, shifting uncomfortably against their invisible stares. I knew they were there, unvoiced in their disapproval, wordless in their gawking.
My body felt heavy, as if it were being held down by weights many times my own meager body mass. I couldn’t see these weights, much like I couldn’t see the eyes in the darkness. But I felt their tangible presence and a sick feeling of dread settled inside of me. This was unlike any of the other dreams I had ever experienced. No mournful voices, no sulfurous breath, no flowing blood and no flashback.
Then the voice came out of the shadows, slithering and cold, sly and slippery. It scraped across the ground, writhing like a snake until it flowed into my ears. I shivered at the unconscious image of blood-red gazes and demeaning stares, the words poking, stabbing deeply into my mind and brain until they nearly consumed my thought process. And still, I felt the eyes on me. Anxiety settled deep into my belly, curling like some foul disease that rotted away at my insides. I felt sick.
“What have you to say for yourself, Anne Jones? Borne on December 12, an orphaned child. Forgotten....” The voice hissed away, almost as if mocking me but for what, I couldn’t say. The past that I had already let go of once before, perhaps.
“For all that’s been done, and still she is not satisfied with her gift,” piped up another voice, this one distinctly feminine and clearly displeased. It echoed around the small corona of light and I peered into the darkness, hoping to catch some glimpse of the speaker or those that watched me.
I didn’t know how to respond, my tongue lying limp and dry in my mouth, words caught in my throat. I didn’t know what they wanted from me. I didn’t know why I was in chains. I stopped trying to understand anything the moment I was hit by a garbage truck and transported into the strangest ... event of my entire existence.
Another voice joined the others, grating and rough, nearly spitting out each word as if they were a vile substance. “She betrayed the true one, the chosen one, why should she be forgiven?”
It felt as if a Silence spell had been cast on me. No matter how much I wanted to speak, to demand what was going on or attempt to even answer their accusations, I could do nothing more than shiver and shake, trembling in place as fear filled me to the brim, thick and cloying.
“Blood on her hands, blood in her veins, blood bathed in darkness, not even her blood remains,” cackled another, even more confusing than the first and coming from behind me. I was frozen in place, unable to even turn and look in that direction.
The light seemed to shine brighter, blinding me and I winced, unable to do anything but bear it. Bear the cold and the light and the harsh, aching words that seemed to dig at my very soul.
“Destroyer of life,” hissed a fourth, “that is what they call her. She can’t love, she can only destroy, and pick apart and be selfish.” He laughed, low and mocking. “Yes, selfish. As only humans are.” It echoed around me, within me, throbbing through my mind and making my knees tremble so violently that my strength left me.
I dropped to the floor, kneeling down as my head bobbed limply on my shoulders, unable to even find the strength to keep it up straight and proud. I slumped, sweat pouring from my fear and my body shaking so violently, I feared my bones wouldn’t be able to take it. My teeth clattered and I could taste it then, though there was no evidence of it around me. The thick and coppery scent of blood, warm and fresh.
“What will you do, Anne Jones? How will you choose?” the initial voice demanded in the same taunting and cruel tone. “Was one night enough? Or will your addiction feed your discredit?”
I choked, a sob building in my throat from an unknown grief and regret. “I...” The word strangled in my throat as I struggled to say something more, to answer these demands which questioned in confusing circles of verbiage. Their eyes were still on me, like cold and harsh judging stones, critiquing my actions and my opinions, telling if I was right or wrong.
I didn’t know anymore.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I managed to whisper, hanging my head and feeling the tears like a hot dam at the back of my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Hmph, foolish child! Unworthy of the gift! Unworthy of master’s gift!” hissed the female voice, her tone filled with contempt. I could feel the rage and irritation in her stare, although I could not see her eyes.
The chains on my hand rattled as I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to forestall the tears that I knew were coming. I tried to ignore the heavy press of mass atop of me. It seemed the more they spoke, the weightier it became. I felt like I were suffocating, a slow and frightening death.
How would I choose? Was one night enough for what? Who did I betray? What gift had I been given? I didn’t know.
“I don’t know!” I forced the scream from my throat, biting my tongue in the process and felt the warm splash of blood in my mouth. It was bitter, not at all like Vincent or Ryou’s sweet taste. I wanted to spit it out but my jaw felt loose, unhinged, no longer under my control.
There was a moment of silence, tense and heavy silence that rankled at me. A silence so perverse it literally screamed back at me. Then I heard them, footsteps, low and echoing on a floor I could not see beyond the dark and the shadows, the creeping and encroaching black. Heavy boots scraped across stone, the rustling of fabric, and then something stepped into the light, just along the edge.
Something ghostly and pale, with fluttering white robes and gleaming wings. It frightened me and I inched away from the apparition, though there was nowhere to go.
“What do you think, dear brothers?” questioned the female, the voice both coming from and not coming from the creature in front of me. “Shall she be punished? Shall she pay for her crimes?”
More footsteps, sounding like the key to my doom, and three more shapes took form, each robe a different color than before. Crimson red, like a splash of fresh blood, the first on a battlefield. Midnight blue, so dark it was nearly black, twinkling in the pale light as if stars had been sewn into the folds. Emerald green, like the isles of Ireland, bright, hopeful, but in this place, almost sickly, diseased... tormented. I didn’t know what these creatures were, with their matching wings and empty faces, but they frightened far more than the beast in my body, than another bout with Constance... than even death itself.
“Indeed.”
A cloth rustled and my eyes were immediately drawn to emerald robes as a hand, emaciated and pale, appeared from beneath the heavy fabric, a bony finger pointed directly at me. “Show her what it truly means to suffer.” He dragged out the last word and a shiver raced down my spine.
Then they cackled, they laughed at my fear as I lay cowering on the floor, body shaking, and nausea rising in my belly but going no further. The chains rattled as my hands trembled and I was so terrified I could not move. A sick feeling of dread weighed heavily and the invisible pressure on my body increased further, bowing my back until I leaned forward, nearly bowing to these strange and faceless things.
“Enough!” roared a voice, a new one, so sudden that the four forms actually backpedaled, shifting back into the darkness until I saw nothing but the outlines of their shapes and gleaming, empty eyes.
“This one is mine!”
I jerked awake, only great restraint preventing me from flailing about and waking up my bedmate. To my horror, I realized I was still shaking, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I peered all around me. It was muted, the sun having only just risen and a thick mist had settled over our camp area. The fire had dimmed down to mere embers. I could see the sky pinking with hints of orange as dawn rapidly ascended. Ryou and Ivory were still sleeping, but I saw no sign of Vincent. Though the feeling that he was there watching did not leave me.
I sighed, attempting to relax against the blankets and the warm body beside me, but couldn’t stop from trembling. I turned my head. Melath was lying on his stomach, silver hair spilled over his arms as he pillowed his head upon them. He must have gotten up after I literally passed out and pulled back on his trousers but his upper body was still gloriously bare. The blanket had slipped down leaving little to the imagination. I couldn’t help the slight blush that broke out on my face as I remembered last night, my eyes raking over Melath’s exposed tanned flesh.
I shivered slightly in the early morning air, surprised that I had awakened before everyone else. After another moment of shivering, the nightmare still fresh in my mind, I rose carefully from Melath’s bedroll. I found my discarded garments, pulling them on quickly and quietly. I tucked the blanket back over him before I turned and cast another eye over the campsite.
It was still and silent. Had Vincent been on watch the entire night? Or had Ivory taken a mid-watch and he had taken the morning as well? I spotted my bow and arrows still near the fire, lying near my pack, not that there was anything in there that really belonged to me. Mostly I was helping Ryou carry his stuff. For a monk, he had a lot of possessions.
My ears picked up the sound of the rushing water, and suddenly, the thought of washing off my body and face with the river, even if it was freezing, was very appealing. I quietly stole my way out of the campsite, wincing every time a branch cracked under my feet or some small animal rattled the bushes. I ignored the ghostly remains of the buildings around me, some even creepier in the thick and slightly chilly mist that seemed to blanket the entire area.
I couldn’t even see up the mountain. It was hidden behind a shroud of white fog, the trees almost appearing like skeletal arms behind a ghostly veil. I shivered at the creepy image and tore my gaze from the forest, following the path out of the rather small village and towards the river. The sound of it splashing and gnawing at the banks grew even louder as I approached, yet I gingerly picked my way down to the riverbed, managing to find a rock that somewhat jutted out to a slightly calmer part of the river.
So long as I didn’t fall in I would be all right. Needless to say, I was careful. I didn’t fancy drowning in a river. I dropped down to my ass, setting my legs on either side of me and carefully splashed some of the frigid water onto my face. It startled me into alertness, but I didn’t mind, too obsessed with the idea of being clean. As I absentmindedly scrubbed the cold water over my skin, pushing up my sleeves and the thick robes, I thought about the dream.
It was different from the others. But the voice at the end had been familiar. Not Ixion or even the stranger from the dying worlds, but more like the first dream-like hallucination I had. Then again, considering my grasp on reality, perhaps they were all one and the same person. Or maybe they didn’t exist at all.
I had been judged but for what reason? I didn’t like my gift? The only thing I had been given lately was pain and torture. I didn’t think they expected me to be grateful for that. And whom had I betrayed? I sighed, feeling my head begin to hurt as my fingers gradually numbed in the icy cold water. I pulled my hands from the water and sat back on the rock, letting my gaze roam over the turbulent water and the mist-hugged forest.
“At least this time you didn’t go far.”
I jumped nearly two feet in the air from the sudden voice interrupting my solitude. My heart raced in my chest as I swiveled my head around, catching sight of Vincent standing just behind me, like a dark and silent shadow. Immediately, a scowl registered on my face.
“Or did Melath fucking you convince you to stick around this time?” he questioned, his expression an impassive mask that I could not penetrate.
That did it. I scrambled to my feet, careful of the slick points on the rock as I glared at him. “Get an eyeful, did you?” I demanded through clenched teeth. My hands folded into fists at my side but I knew better than to tackle him here. We could roll over the small platform and I doubted Vincent would try to pull my drowning ass from the river.
“Unfortunately,” he replied, his voice thick with distaste and disdain. His eyes narrowed to thin golden slits. “I know who you are.”
That threw me for a loop. He was the first person, other than Constance, to actually say something like that. Nevertheless, I was suspicious. This was Vincent saying such things, which meant, he was either lying or he was looking for a reaction. After all, just the day or two before he had been screaming at me, wanting to know what I was.
“Do you now?” I folded my arms over my chest as I stared at him.
My eyes automatically drew to the symbol on his forehead, seemingly fading in the dim light of the morning but still essentially prominent. The swirling black lines were of a different sort than the tattoos on his arms, striking me as out of place and igniting my curiosity, despite the irritation I held with him.
He tilted his head, loose strands of dark hair falling out of his braid. “The question, I think, is do you?”
“Quit trying to talk circles around me!” I snapped. “Just answer my damn questions or get the hell out of my way.” My arms dropped from my chest as I moved to push past him, his ill presence ruining the serene moment I had obtained. I would be better off staring into the nothing in the silent campsite.
He didn’t move, standing there like a damned iron wall so I gingerly stepped around him, shooting him my most poisonous look as I did. He waited until I had gotten completely past him before he spoke again.
“He had no choice in fucking you.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t turn but my eyes narrowed in anger. I gritted my teeth. “Jealousy does not become you,” I snarkily shot back. “He came after me.”
“You would like to think that, wouldn’t you?”
I resisted the urge to push him off the rock. Undoubtedly, I wouldn’t have succeeded anyways but the desire was there. He was such an asshole. A good soaking in the frigid waters would have done him some good. But I had no doubt he would have found a way to quickly retaliate, and I couldn’t swim.
However, my words could be just as biting. “You have no--"
He cut me off quickly, and I could feel the brush of air as he whirled around. “No! It is you who have no right!” he snarled. “Coming here out of nowhere! We didn’t ask for this! None of us want to be your whim!”
His words struck something inside me, a jarring recognition that I couldn’t quite place. I turned, anger blooming in my cheeks. I didn’t know what he was accusing me of but I was sick and tired of his bullying.
“Bastard!” I cursed, my voice coming out low and very, very pissed. “Stop taking out your fear on me! Go do your fucking slave duties like you’re supposed to!”
To this, he paled considerably, a great feat considering how light-skinned he already was. Yeah, it was cruel of me, but I was tired of being his little stepping-stone. Constance had tortured me. Strange men in painted bodies tried to make off with me, for god knows what. No one wanted to answer my questions and there was some strange creature that desired blood inside of my body. I didn’t need any more drama.
“Yeah,” I continued venomously, voice edged with a hint of danger, betraying my true, tumultuous anger and emotions. “I know about that. I know all about what those earrings mean and what you really are. Melath is your master, meaning he can do whatever and whomever he wants and you have no say! You’re nothing but a slave, Vincent, and in some places, that’s lower than a dog!” I spat before turning on my heels, mouth set in grim determination. I never said I wasn’t a complete bitch; it just took a while for the fear to be replaced by the bitchiness.
“How dare you?” he hissed, struggling to find some control. I could feel the rage building within him, it practically flowed from his body, but deep beneath it, I could sense his hurt and I was not ashamed to admit that I felt satisfied with that.
“You know nothing, nothing about me!” he roared, while I continued to ignore him, finally having made my way to the bank.
I considered my part in the conversation through. I knew he wouldn’t try to save me, but I also knew that he didn’t dare kill me. If I could even be killed. Bah, I wasn’t about to get into that personal discussion within myself.
“A whore has nothing to say about my life!”
I took a deep breath, eyes narrowing as I abruptly stopped in my tracks, just on the shore of the river. Had he just called me a whore? This was rapidly becoming a name-calling contest but I couldn’t stop myself.
I looked over my shoulder where he stood on the boulder. “Fuck you!” I hissed, loud enough for him to hear before I turned back around, intending to go back to the campsite. Until something caught my eyes, a flitting movement in the trees that lined the riverbank to my right.
I swiveled my sight back in that direction, peering through the mist and branches. Had I imagined it? Then I saw it again, a white motion, a fluttery movement almost like a cloak. There was a person there, I think. Perhaps someone from the now abandoned village. I felt no fear from the movements of this unidentified individual, only a rising curiosity, and before I knew it, I was moving in the direction of it, fight with Vincent forgotten until he spoke up again.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
I didn’t dignify his command with a response, ignoring him completely as I picked my way across the rocky riverbank towards the flitting shape. A sense of urgency had built up inside of me, as if this was a chance I had to take, that this was an opportunity I could not miss.
I had to know.
*****
a/n: A bit longer than usual but it's not like you guys mind, right? Stop and leave a comment! I'd love to hear from you. Thanks for reading. The next update should come soon!
Anyways, glad to see that I still have some readers. Special thanks to Miss. Corruption for her review. I really appreciated it and I loved it! As for the ending, I won't spoil anything. I will, however, say that I am quite proud of the way I finished out the story. Thanks so much for stopping to leave me your words.
Now onto the chapter!
Chapter Thirteen: Facing Judgment
Fiery passion of night's delight,
Lost in the wonder of his eyes,
Dreaming, fluttering open wide.
I am chased by talking shadows,
Burning ichor hot on my neck,
Beaded sweat of anxiety rest,
Swallowing thickly, only lies on my tongue.
Standing on the pedestal of judgment comes,
Things I've done, thought, or wasted,
Blood splattering morbidly within marble halls.
I picked my bow and arrows up from the ground and the both of us ambled towards the fire. I felt the full intensity of their stares but mustered all of my feelings of no shame and managed to meet their eyes evenly. As I dropped down into a cross-legged seat in front of the blaze, a movement that looked clumsier than anything, Melath further embarrassed me by sitting gracefully. I sighed and idly patted my still useless bow and arrow at my side.
"I see that your aim is no better than your wit," Ivory snarked, looking up at me. She held her wooden bowl in her hand, calming scooping the warm and aromatic stew that Ryou had brewed into her mouth.
I narrowed my eyes. "I've never held a weapon before in my life. So sue me."
"It just takes time, Miss Anne," Ryou inserted smoothly, attempting to end the argument before it even began. I was initially surprised that he had spoken at all. "You can't expect to be a master at it from the beginning."
"That's putting it gently." Ivory snorted beneath her breath.
I ignored her. It was strange how Ivory could go from barely speaking to constantly criticizing me and everything I did. Maybe she needed to get comfortable around me or that I had done something to set her off. Either way, I was certain she was no docile, sugary-sweet young lady.
"Thanks, Ryou," I replied, leaning over to accept the bowl of stew he offered me. My stomach rumbled hungrily at just the scent of the brew, all meaty and flavorful. Yum.
His brown eyes shone for a moment. "If you would like," he suggested quietly, the firelight making strange eerie shadows on his face. "I can teach you some self-defense maneuvers. Hand-to-hand, that sort of thing."
The man was brilliant. Even if I couldn't use my bow, that sort of knowledge would come in handy. "Sure," I responded as I nodded my head.
Ryou beamed, significantly happier than he had been recently and slightly resembling a puppy offered its first bone. Did my acceptance really mean that much to him? It was a strange concept to me, this friendship thing. I was usually a loner due to my eccentric nature. In short, people irritated me. Or was that humanity in general?
Idiotic. Hypocritical. Backstabbing, conniving beings like parasites crawling around on the Earth's surface, our only purpose to maim and destroy, not even limiting our actions from each other. Whatever we create, we destroy. If it's beautiful, we taint it with our despair, our hatred, and our jealousies. Sometimes, I hated being a member of that race, that belonging to the human scum was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me.
“What do you think to find in those mountains?” Vincent demanded, pulling me from my mental stupor.
My eyes shot up, locking with his and meeting a completely impassive expression. Though I could see a storm brewing behind his eyes.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly, unable to come up with a better lie quickly. I’d never been real good at it. “All I know is that the Great One told me to follow my dreams.”
Follow my dreams. It sounded like some pathetic attempt at encouraging a high school class of seniors. A mantra to persuade me to succeed, to believe in things beyond my own abilities and myself. Everyone knew that wishes didn’t come true, but that didn’t stop them from trying their damndest anyways. I once thought that way too, when I was young and naive and hopeful. Now I knew better, I knew that dreams only came true for those who already had anything they could ever need.
I could always reach for the stars, but never get any further than the ground. Life wasn’t paid for with hope, and magical rays of sunshine didn’t come down and grant my wishes. The world was harsh and cruel, selfish and hateful, and you learned to survive with what you had. Learned to accept what you wouldn't ever know, and move on, hoping that maybe one day, you would finally get to rest.
“We’re following dreams?” Ivory's brow show up in disbelief as she scooped up a spoonful of stew. Her gaze flickered to Melath. “You honestly think there’s any profit in dreams?”
The elfin man didn’t look at her; however, he turned his steady eyes on me, something burning deep in their cerulean orbs. “Not all profit is treasure, Ivory.” And just the way he said those words made goosebumps prickle over my skin.
She snorted, shooting him a disgusted look as she dropped her dirty dishware to the ground and rose to her feet. “I’m going to sleep.” She sniffed. “Wake me up for the second watch. Those bastard Rajab might come back and slit our throats in our sleep.” With that, she stormed past towards her bed roll and dropped down on it with little grace.
“She is upset,” Ryou commented unnecessarily, his nearly untouched food sitting on the ground in front of him. Odd, considering he was normally a voracious eater. Why was everyone suddenly acting so strange?
“Don’t say stupid things, Ryou,” Vincent snipped, shooting the monk a look.
Ryou immediately cowed and closed his mouth, slumping down and if it were possible, pulling further into himself. Well, at least one thing hadn’t changed; Vincent was still being a ruthless bastard. Ryou kept his gaze trained on the fire as he began to clean up the results of his cooking and gathering up the dirtied cookware, including Ivory’s and his own abandoned meal.
He was the perfect example of a doormat for this group, and for that reason alone, I was angry. He did not deserve to be treated that way, especially when it seemed he was the only decent one among them. I didn’t know what Ryou thought he owed them, but it was certainly not anything to warrant that rudeness.
Beside me, Melath narrowed his eyes, instantly locking his gaze on the dark-haired man across the fire from him. Vincent met him evenly, unflinching. A moment of tense silence passed where I held my breath, wondering at the outcome and Ryou pretended nothing was occurring.
Finally, with an irritated scowl, Vincent shot to his feet. He tossed his bowl towards the fire and turned on his heel, heading into the forest and some unknown destination. I shivered unconsciously at the look in his face, a strange emotion flitting through his golden eyes. The fire sputtered and hissed as it licked at the bowl and burned the wooden dish, almost a testament to his current state of mind.
Well, that was certainly an interesting dinner. We were just one big happy family, weren’t we?
“Ryou, leave those,” Melath ordered, drawing my attention back towards him. The monk looked up in surprise. I did, too.
“Vincent will get them when he comes back.”
I raised a brow at this as Ryou gaped in shock. Vincent? Handle the cookware? I was half expecting hell to freeze over. I looked around me, above me, waiting for the strike of lightning or the pigs to fly. Vincent was anything but domestic. Hell, not even Ivory was domestic. They left all those responsibilities to Ryou, kind but gentle Mr. Doormat.
“It’s no trouble,” the monk responded, somehow managing not to stutter as his gaze flickered to me, looking slightly concerned. Did he fear Vincent’s wrath?
Melath inclined his head. “Your wound is breaking open, Ryou. I’ll get Vincent to do it.”
Immediately, Ryou’s hands went to his waist, and it wasn’t until then that I saw the dark patch of his robes, glistening wetly. Why hadn’t he told me that he was hurt? And when had that happened? Did I miss something? I looked up at him in concern, feeling as if I should have noticed. As much as he had done for me, I should have been there helping him, wrapping his wounds for him. But I wasn’t. Instead, I was flirting with Melath.
He caught my concern and at once tried to reassure me. He nodded as he idly patted the wound, unable to help his wince.
“It’s quite alright Miss Anne. Just a small scratch. I just can’t believe I let that primitive through my guard.” He smiled, but it was thin and strained. I couldn’t tell if it was from pain or from something else entirely. Such as whatever it was that had been bothering him through dinner.
“Do you need help?” I prompted, my eyes flickering from his wound to his face. For the moment, I completely forgot about Melath.
How that was possible, even I’m not sure, but for once in my life, those motherly and nurturing instincts I had been suppressing decided to rise to the surface. “I don’t know anything about wounds but I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.”
A brown gaze slid to Melath before Ryou shook his head, one hand still pressed to the wound. “No, I can handle it Miss Anne. I think I’ll just... turn in for the night.” Another weak smile, one that did not encourage me in the slightest.
I tilted my head to the side and regarded him curiously. Why was he acting so strange? “All right, Ryou. Good night.”
“To you the same,” he replied before turning on his heels and limping slightly towards his bedroll, edged close to the half-crumbling wall for protection from the somewhat chilly wind that was blowing off of the mountain. I watched his exit with an inquisitive gaze.
Ryou was the sort of man who baffled me. He traveled with a group of what appeared to be blood-thirsty killers; yet, he was kind. Rarely did I see him display any sort of backbone, except in battle. He deferred to the others in all things, unless it concerned my welfare, then he would argue until he had no more words. He seemed so innocent and young, the type of person I felt I had to protect, despite the fact that I knew he was far more skilled than I was. Like he needed my aid.
“Do not be fooled by appearances; he is every bit the killer as the rest of us,” Melath uttered lowly, drawing my attention back towards him.
I swiveled my head towards the elf sitting rather close beside me, his presence a constant emanation at my side. My jaw gaped in slight surprise, wondering if he had read my mind.
Melath shook his head, something shining in his blue eyes. “No, I cannot read minds. The question was all over your face.” He paused, shifting as he regarded me with the full strength of his stare. “Because he has cared for you, you see him as the smallest threat, but take heed, he’s killed just as many, if not more.”
I couldn’t decide whether or not Melath was trying to warn me away from Ryou to make himself look better, or if he just felt it was his duty to enlighten my ignorance. Either way, I flushed as guilt hit me because honestly, my hands were no less blood-stained.
“I’ve joined the ranks, then.”
He laughed quietly, that same, soft, musical tone that shivered down my spine, eyes dancing. “Slaying one Rajab out of self-defense hardly counts as murder. You’re still just a babe.” Yet, the lust radiating from his form implied that he thought of me as anything but.
It made me angry, for him to dismiss my one attempt at killing when it tore so steadily at me on the inside. I had taken someone else's life, no matter the reason. Nausea settled inside of my belly every time I thought about it. Was my life truly worth living? But before I could respond to Melath’s words, he spoke up again, an entirely new edge to his voice and gaze.
“I don’t think you mind our blood-stained hands, do you, Anne? I think the brief flash of danger... excites you.” His tone dropped to a low whisper. Quiet. Intentionally seductive. That man was pure eroticism; he knew exactly what buttons to push.
I snorted, trying to forestall the flush of heat that spread up my spine. “I don’t consider fighting for my life exciting.”
He raised a brow, an elegant move for one such as him. “Hmm, but I do.” Melath rose to his feet with his usual grace, holding out a hand to me and towering over my meager form. “Come.”
And suddenly, I felt very nervous. Knowing what he wanted, knowing what I wanted. The sheer illogic and irrationality of my situation. The events of the past few days flitting by like flashes of memory. I hesitated, cutting my gaze towards the fire, despite the screaming of my libido. I was attempting to put some sense back into my chaos, not that it was working, as I tried to free myself from the sensual spell that he was weaving over me with intoxicating cerulean eyes.
“Won’t the fire go out if you leave it untended?” I swallowed thickly.
I felt like a virgin on her wedding night for all the hesitance that consumed me. Oh, I wanted it. But something balked in me. My few precious morals? I didn’t really know. I struggled to work up the courage.
Melath looked down on me, amusement curling up the corners of his mouth. “Vincent will take care of it. He’s on watch.”
I could discern nothing of Vincent in the darkness, despite Melath’s words. The very fact that he was somewhere, watching for trouble, keeping an eye on us, was slightly unnerving. My gaze darted around for a moment as I rose to my feet, determined to find this shadowy watcher. Yet, I saw no sign of him. Vincent was like a ghost, molding into the darkness and flitting among the black until he was a mere shadow.
There was movement out of the corner of my eye and I turned my head to find Melath watching me curiously. “Is it he or I that unnerves you so?”
I blushed before I could help it. “Both,” I confessed. “I saw--"
Another raised eyebrow. “You saw?”
I shook my head. Melath was being purposefully sketchy about his and Vincent’s relationship. Well, that was fine. He could keep his secrets. So long as Vincent didn’t attack me on some possessive rampage, everything would be just fine. Though it did seem like Melath really was the one in charge, considering he owned Vincent. Gah, it was all so confusing.
“Nothing. It’s not important,” I inserted hastily, swallowing down my nervousness.
Every time I looked at him, heat spread through my body and I wanted to push Melath to the ground and have my way with him. Which contradicted with my attempts to make sense of the crazy and fucked-up turn my life had taken. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, though my libido sure made its opinions known.
He laughed again before holding out another hand. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
I kept my eyes on him, refusing to look at where I knew Ryou was still sitting up on his bedroll, wrapping his wound. I didn’t want to accidentally lock gazes with the monk, nor catch Ivory’s irritated glare. Or Vincent’s peering golden stare for that matter either. I took a deep breath, hid my apprehension and took his hand, allowing him to pull me towards his bedroll where it had been laid out earlier. Ryou must have done it. Or Vincent. At this point, I couldn’t be sure who the real doormat was or that it even mattered.
His hand was warm in mine, softer than it should have been, with only the hint of a callous on his palms. My eyes were locked on our joined fingers as I stumbled along after him with very little grace, shivering when a breath of cold wind seeped in through the cracked walls around us and tugged at my bared skin. The darkness encroached around our meager shelter and I felt it like a heavy presence beyond the firelight. I knew eyes were on me, could feel them boring into my skull and my body and I struggled to ignore them.
I could make my own choices. I was a grown woman. I knew what I wanted. And right now, I craved to taste Melath’s amber skin, wondering if it was as smooth as it looked. I remembered well the taste of his lips, the fresh flavor of his scent. I wondered if his blood would crumble to dust in my mouth like it did for Vincent and for once, the thought didn’t send me into curdles of revulsion as it usually did. Perhaps I was being numbed to everything, I really couldn’t say.
A tug on my hand brought me back to alertness and I looked up into amused crystalline eyes. I flushed under the intent stare, recognizing the heat reflected in them, the lingering gaze and the lustful way he licked his lips every so slowly, pink tongue glistening in the faint light of the fire that was behind us.
“Something more interesting?” he questioned, laughter faint in his tone. It was then that I noticed he was slowly but diligently peeling away the outer layer of his clothing, the long-sleeved over shirt and removing his boots, sending them to a scattered, disordered pile near his discarded pack.
I stared as his skin was slowly uncovered, caramel run smooth, almost perfect. I could detect the thin, white lines of scars from past battles. A particularly nasty one scraped over his right upper arm and shoulder.
Gods, he was beautiful. Certainly more than most women I had seen. While he wasn’t the pale moonlight of Vincent, he was easy enough on my eyes. A hunger coiled deep inside of me, a lusty desire to run my tongue over his flesh. My eyes dropped to his groin, the slight bulge resting there and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. I was a hedonist, true enough; I loved mutual pleasure.
The undershirt was pulled off as well, revealing more of his skin before he lowered himself to the ground, relaxing comfortably on his bed roll. Crystalline eyes looked up at me, smoldering with heat and desire for me. It made my legs turn to jelly, unable to believe my sheer luck. How he could look that way when faced with someone like me was beyond my comprehension. I was not naive about my looks. I wasn’t ugly just plain. No stunning beauty, more like what someone would call cute, girl-next-door sort of look. It completely baffled me.
“Care to join me?” he posed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He just sat there, one arm draped over a propped up knee, looking like some sort of sex god and asked me if I wanted to join him. Did I look like a fool?
I quickly shucked off my outer garments, the huge and bulky robe, glad that beneath I wore my under things, as well as a somewhat flimsy and sheer lingerie type thing that barely crested mid-thigh. I shivered as a gust of cold wind blew at me, trying to pretend that Ryou and Ivory weren’t somewhere on the other side of the fire and that golden eyes weren’t watching from some unknown location. I had no shame, but a lot of modesty.
I took one step towards Melath, but he moved faster than a striking snake, grabbing my arm and pulling me down before I could even utter a sound of surprise. I was quickly trapped beneath him as he perched above me, hands on either side of my head and knees on alternate sides of my hips. His hair was a fall of moonlight silver, tickling the left side of my face. It was so long, even for a ponytail, and it smelled like the ancient green and gold forest of the Great One. I wanted to bury my fingers and face in the silver strands, and I wondered if they were as downy and sleek as they looked.
I couldn’t help it when my hand raised of its own accord, entangling among the long strands in wonder as he looked down at me, something shining in his eyes. They were soft, incredibly so, like finely woven silk, ghosting through my fingers as if I touched something as gentle as water. I was almost child-like in my perusal of his hair, unable to look at anything else. Certainly not his hovering heat, like a presence against my barely clothed skin, or that tell-tale bulge between his thighs, scant inches above my own aching heat.
Why would he want someone like me? This statuesque form of beauty? Not only that, after seeing everything I’ve done, after having to save my sorry ass time and time again, and me doing nothing but yelling and running away over and over, why would he have interest? Surely women were not in that much short supply on Tears?
“You’re wondering why I’m here,” he commented, smooth voice flowing over my senses and dragging my wandering eyes back towards his face.
Well, he was partially correct. Because in all that, as a shiver raced down my spine and my hands stroked this hair, I also wondered what the hell I was doing there. I hadn’t solved any mysteries although I suppose I had learned to adapt, but still, there was a monster deep inside of me and everyone was acting strange. I was lost in an unknown world with no direction, yet I found the time to screw one of the few people that were trying to help me. Where were my priorities? Obviously flown right out the proverbial fucking window.
I shook my head at his statement. “No, I’m wondering why I’m here. It doesn’t make much logic and clearly, I’m out of my mind.” I paused, drawing a breath as I raked my gaze down the front of his chest.
Wide shoulders, golden skin, flat stomach that fairly rippled with muscle beneath the surface, a small line of silverish hair that dipped into the front of his pants that I so desperately wanted to follow with my tongue. I had to draw in another shuddery breath.
“I’m out of my mind but by God, I want it,” I breathed. “I want you,” I continued, starting to babble.
My mind swirled and whirled, bouncing about. Did I? Didn’t I? What could I trust? What was before my eyes or what I remembered, what I knew? Was this a dream? A reality? My future, the past? I didn’t know anymore.
Melath laughed lightly, leaning down closer to me, close enough that I could feel the warm puffs of his breath on my cheek. Beyond him I could see the stars glinting brightly in the night sky, making it all seem even more surreal. Not romantic, but unbelievably seductive. My breathing quickened as my pulse began to race and I squirmed beneath him. He hadn’t even touched me yet it felt as if a hot fire had spread across my body.
“The feeling seems to be mutual,” he purred.
His presence was above me, cool and washing like a spring rain, and enough to make me instantly aroused. His scent, his male musk, filtered to my nose and I couldn’t help it, I inhaled deeply, lost in it as if it were some type of drug. My hand twitched and before I knew it, my palm was ghosting over his chest, barely touching his flesh yet succeeding in feeding my addiction. Incredible soft, belying the hardened and strong nature of muscle beneath.
Still, something in me resisted. Perhaps that little bit of common sense in me that remained, or maybe something deeper, some higher power was trying to speak to me. I couldn’t say. I felt like I was in the wrong place, no matter how loudly my libido was screaming yes.
“But--"
I was cut off before I could finish my protest, not even sure what I was going to say anyways. “Anne, shut up.”
He dipped down the last few inches and kissed me. No, he didn’t just kiss me. He devoured my lips and my mouth, completely dominating. Fresh, renewed, like the forest again, his scent and flavor washed over me and unconsciously, I moaned into the kiss, mind swirling with lust and utter abandon.
My palm flattened over his chest, rubbing along the flat planes before sliding around the side of his body, trying to pull him closer. My hips arched off the bed roll, barely feeling the rocks beneath me and suddenly, I wanted him so badly that all reason seemed to leave, any modesty or common sense becoming little more than a distant memory.
I struggled to regain a grip on rationality when a sudden and sobering thought struck me. Real or not, I wasn’t having no one’s baby. And something told me that these people didn’t know what a condom was. I bemoaned the rubber that I usually kept in my book bag, something that hadn’t ‘crossed over’ or whatever the hell happened, with me.
He broke away from the kiss, lips gliding across my jaw to dip into the hollow of my throat and I managed to somehow gasp out the words. “But... I can’t... get pregnant,” I protested, though my hands said otherwise, curling about his upper body and desperately trying to pull him closer, to feel his heated flesh press against mine.
By the gods, I wanted to bite him, my mouth inevitably finding a column of amber flesh just before me. I ran my lips over it, half afraid that if I used my tongue, I would follow through with my desire to bite him. I didn’t know if it was my own want or the beast’s within me.
He paused in his movements, only long enough to utter a response. “You won’t,” he attempted to assure, lips moving back to my neck and creating a hot line of fire that raced directly down my spine.
“Y... you don’t know that,” I stuttered out, fingers pressing deeply into his amber skin as I bared my neck for his questing tongue and teeth. So damn good, I was drowning in his touch. By gods, breathing was overrated.
“I do,” he insisted, and I could hear the impatience in his voice. He wanted it as much as I did. “I’m infertile.”
That filtered through my lust-clogged brain like a shot to the head. I cocked my head to the side in confusion, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “Is that why you’re fallen?”
He looked up then and I caught the brief flash of hurt that crossed his face, swirling in crystalline orbs. If we hadn’t already been so close, I don’t think I would have caught it. The strange emotion flickered across the surface before he quickly clamped it down.
“No,” he denied. “That was my punishment.”
He closed his mouth on any further explanation, leaning down and swiftly overwhelming me with another kiss even as he moved to balance on one hand, surprisingly delicate fingers sliding along my thigh.
I could sense it in the almost desperate way he pressed his lips to mine. He wanted to forget; I wanted to forget. No more reminders of the pained past. We were both eager to get this tryst on. For at tryst it was. I didn’t believe anything more would come out of it.
His hand slid up my thigh and I moaned low in my throat, giving myself up to his lips and his touch, sliding deeper into a lust-filled fog of desire and surrender. I didn’t care about the consequences. The ears a few feet away. Golden eyes watching from some unknown perch. I didn’t stop to think of what would happen in the morning, or in the future. I didn’t think about what the others would say or how it might change things.
Selfish, perhaps, but in some ways, I needed it so badly. I needed to be reminded that something around me was real. And I needed the reminder in ways other than blood and pain.
It came as no surprise to me that I dreamed that night. I seemed to spend half my existence living in this half-state between awareness and imagining. I stopped trying to figure out what was real anymore and just settled for living, hoping that somewhere in the craziness of it all, something would hold fast and true. It was a meager hope, but I held fast.
A cold corona of light that did nothing to ease the chill settled deep in my bones shone down on me. It was dim yet blinding, obscuring my sight from the encroaching darkness all around me. I could see nothing beyond the small halo, it barely an arms length completely surrounding my form. But I knew something, someone, many someones, were out there watching me. I could feel their invisible stares and their invisible eyes. It made me shiver.
Chill air prickled across my skin and I shuddered, goose bumps raised, hair standing on end. It was so cold, that breath of wind, like the icy breezes from the northern mountains, carried over with the hint and promise of snow, a white winter, a white Christmas. But nothing so pure in front of me now. Not quite like the joy involved in a holiday season. Something here more dangerous, more... judging.
I stood, shoulders squared against an unknown foe, my hands clasped in front of me. No, not clasped, bound. With iron fetters that dug into my flesh, the pain not quite there, not yet enough to make me complain or cry out. I kept my silence, shifting uncomfortably against their invisible stares. I knew they were there, unvoiced in their disapproval, wordless in their gawking.
My body felt heavy, as if it were being held down by weights many times my own meager body mass. I couldn’t see these weights, much like I couldn’t see the eyes in the darkness. But I felt their tangible presence and a sick feeling of dread settled inside of me. This was unlike any of the other dreams I had ever experienced. No mournful voices, no sulfurous breath, no flowing blood and no flashback.
Then the voice came out of the shadows, slithering and cold, sly and slippery. It scraped across the ground, writhing like a snake until it flowed into my ears. I shivered at the unconscious image of blood-red gazes and demeaning stares, the words poking, stabbing deeply into my mind and brain until they nearly consumed my thought process. And still, I felt the eyes on me. Anxiety settled deep into my belly, curling like some foul disease that rotted away at my insides. I felt sick.
“What have you to say for yourself, Anne Jones? Borne on December 12, an orphaned child. Forgotten....” The voice hissed away, almost as if mocking me but for what, I couldn’t say. The past that I had already let go of once before, perhaps.
“For all that’s been done, and still she is not satisfied with her gift,” piped up another voice, this one distinctly feminine and clearly displeased. It echoed around the small corona of light and I peered into the darkness, hoping to catch some glimpse of the speaker or those that watched me.
I didn’t know how to respond, my tongue lying limp and dry in my mouth, words caught in my throat. I didn’t know what they wanted from me. I didn’t know why I was in chains. I stopped trying to understand anything the moment I was hit by a garbage truck and transported into the strangest ... event of my entire existence.
Another voice joined the others, grating and rough, nearly spitting out each word as if they were a vile substance. “She betrayed the true one, the chosen one, why should she be forgiven?”
It felt as if a Silence spell had been cast on me. No matter how much I wanted to speak, to demand what was going on or attempt to even answer their accusations, I could do nothing more than shiver and shake, trembling in place as fear filled me to the brim, thick and cloying.
“Blood on her hands, blood in her veins, blood bathed in darkness, not even her blood remains,” cackled another, even more confusing than the first and coming from behind me. I was frozen in place, unable to even turn and look in that direction.
The light seemed to shine brighter, blinding me and I winced, unable to do anything but bear it. Bear the cold and the light and the harsh, aching words that seemed to dig at my very soul.
“Destroyer of life,” hissed a fourth, “that is what they call her. She can’t love, she can only destroy, and pick apart and be selfish.” He laughed, low and mocking. “Yes, selfish. As only humans are.” It echoed around me, within me, throbbing through my mind and making my knees tremble so violently that my strength left me.
I dropped to the floor, kneeling down as my head bobbed limply on my shoulders, unable to even find the strength to keep it up straight and proud. I slumped, sweat pouring from my fear and my body shaking so violently, I feared my bones wouldn’t be able to take it. My teeth clattered and I could taste it then, though there was no evidence of it around me. The thick and coppery scent of blood, warm and fresh.
“What will you do, Anne Jones? How will you choose?” the initial voice demanded in the same taunting and cruel tone. “Was one night enough? Or will your addiction feed your discredit?”
I choked, a sob building in my throat from an unknown grief and regret. “I...” The word strangled in my throat as I struggled to say something more, to answer these demands which questioned in confusing circles of verbiage. Their eyes were still on me, like cold and harsh judging stones, critiquing my actions and my opinions, telling if I was right or wrong.
I didn’t know anymore.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I managed to whisper, hanging my head and feeling the tears like a hot dam at the back of my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Hmph, foolish child! Unworthy of the gift! Unworthy of master’s gift!” hissed the female voice, her tone filled with contempt. I could feel the rage and irritation in her stare, although I could not see her eyes.
The chains on my hand rattled as I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to forestall the tears that I knew were coming. I tried to ignore the heavy press of mass atop of me. It seemed the more they spoke, the weightier it became. I felt like I were suffocating, a slow and frightening death.
How would I choose? Was one night enough for what? Who did I betray? What gift had I been given? I didn’t know.
“I don’t know!” I forced the scream from my throat, biting my tongue in the process and felt the warm splash of blood in my mouth. It was bitter, not at all like Vincent or Ryou’s sweet taste. I wanted to spit it out but my jaw felt loose, unhinged, no longer under my control.
There was a moment of silence, tense and heavy silence that rankled at me. A silence so perverse it literally screamed back at me. Then I heard them, footsteps, low and echoing on a floor I could not see beyond the dark and the shadows, the creeping and encroaching black. Heavy boots scraped across stone, the rustling of fabric, and then something stepped into the light, just along the edge.
Something ghostly and pale, with fluttering white robes and gleaming wings. It frightened me and I inched away from the apparition, though there was nowhere to go.
“What do you think, dear brothers?” questioned the female, the voice both coming from and not coming from the creature in front of me. “Shall she be punished? Shall she pay for her crimes?”
More footsteps, sounding like the key to my doom, and three more shapes took form, each robe a different color than before. Crimson red, like a splash of fresh blood, the first on a battlefield. Midnight blue, so dark it was nearly black, twinkling in the pale light as if stars had been sewn into the folds. Emerald green, like the isles of Ireland, bright, hopeful, but in this place, almost sickly, diseased... tormented. I didn’t know what these creatures were, with their matching wings and empty faces, but they frightened far more than the beast in my body, than another bout with Constance... than even death itself.
“Indeed.”
A cloth rustled and my eyes were immediately drawn to emerald robes as a hand, emaciated and pale, appeared from beneath the heavy fabric, a bony finger pointed directly at me. “Show her what it truly means to suffer.” He dragged out the last word and a shiver raced down my spine.
Then they cackled, they laughed at my fear as I lay cowering on the floor, body shaking, and nausea rising in my belly but going no further. The chains rattled as my hands trembled and I was so terrified I could not move. A sick feeling of dread weighed heavily and the invisible pressure on my body increased further, bowing my back until I leaned forward, nearly bowing to these strange and faceless things.
“Enough!” roared a voice, a new one, so sudden that the four forms actually backpedaled, shifting back into the darkness until I saw nothing but the outlines of their shapes and gleaming, empty eyes.
“This one is mine!”
I jerked awake, only great restraint preventing me from flailing about and waking up my bedmate. To my horror, I realized I was still shaking, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I peered all around me. It was muted, the sun having only just risen and a thick mist had settled over our camp area. The fire had dimmed down to mere embers. I could see the sky pinking with hints of orange as dawn rapidly ascended. Ryou and Ivory were still sleeping, but I saw no sign of Vincent. Though the feeling that he was there watching did not leave me.
I sighed, attempting to relax against the blankets and the warm body beside me, but couldn’t stop from trembling. I turned my head. Melath was lying on his stomach, silver hair spilled over his arms as he pillowed his head upon them. He must have gotten up after I literally passed out and pulled back on his trousers but his upper body was still gloriously bare. The blanket had slipped down leaving little to the imagination. I couldn’t help the slight blush that broke out on my face as I remembered last night, my eyes raking over Melath’s exposed tanned flesh.
I shivered slightly in the early morning air, surprised that I had awakened before everyone else. After another moment of shivering, the nightmare still fresh in my mind, I rose carefully from Melath’s bedroll. I found my discarded garments, pulling them on quickly and quietly. I tucked the blanket back over him before I turned and cast another eye over the campsite.
It was still and silent. Had Vincent been on watch the entire night? Or had Ivory taken a mid-watch and he had taken the morning as well? I spotted my bow and arrows still near the fire, lying near my pack, not that there was anything in there that really belonged to me. Mostly I was helping Ryou carry his stuff. For a monk, he had a lot of possessions.
My ears picked up the sound of the rushing water, and suddenly, the thought of washing off my body and face with the river, even if it was freezing, was very appealing. I quietly stole my way out of the campsite, wincing every time a branch cracked under my feet or some small animal rattled the bushes. I ignored the ghostly remains of the buildings around me, some even creepier in the thick and slightly chilly mist that seemed to blanket the entire area.
I couldn’t even see up the mountain. It was hidden behind a shroud of white fog, the trees almost appearing like skeletal arms behind a ghostly veil. I shivered at the creepy image and tore my gaze from the forest, following the path out of the rather small village and towards the river. The sound of it splashing and gnawing at the banks grew even louder as I approached, yet I gingerly picked my way down to the riverbed, managing to find a rock that somewhat jutted out to a slightly calmer part of the river.
So long as I didn’t fall in I would be all right. Needless to say, I was careful. I didn’t fancy drowning in a river. I dropped down to my ass, setting my legs on either side of me and carefully splashed some of the frigid water onto my face. It startled me into alertness, but I didn’t mind, too obsessed with the idea of being clean. As I absentmindedly scrubbed the cold water over my skin, pushing up my sleeves and the thick robes, I thought about the dream.
It was different from the others. But the voice at the end had been familiar. Not Ixion or even the stranger from the dying worlds, but more like the first dream-like hallucination I had. Then again, considering my grasp on reality, perhaps they were all one and the same person. Or maybe they didn’t exist at all.
I had been judged but for what reason? I didn’t like my gift? The only thing I had been given lately was pain and torture. I didn’t think they expected me to be grateful for that. And whom had I betrayed? I sighed, feeling my head begin to hurt as my fingers gradually numbed in the icy cold water. I pulled my hands from the water and sat back on the rock, letting my gaze roam over the turbulent water and the mist-hugged forest.
“At least this time you didn’t go far.”
I jumped nearly two feet in the air from the sudden voice interrupting my solitude. My heart raced in my chest as I swiveled my head around, catching sight of Vincent standing just behind me, like a dark and silent shadow. Immediately, a scowl registered on my face.
“Or did Melath fucking you convince you to stick around this time?” he questioned, his expression an impassive mask that I could not penetrate.
That did it. I scrambled to my feet, careful of the slick points on the rock as I glared at him. “Get an eyeful, did you?” I demanded through clenched teeth. My hands folded into fists at my side but I knew better than to tackle him here. We could roll over the small platform and I doubted Vincent would try to pull my drowning ass from the river.
“Unfortunately,” he replied, his voice thick with distaste and disdain. His eyes narrowed to thin golden slits. “I know who you are.”
That threw me for a loop. He was the first person, other than Constance, to actually say something like that. Nevertheless, I was suspicious. This was Vincent saying such things, which meant, he was either lying or he was looking for a reaction. After all, just the day or two before he had been screaming at me, wanting to know what I was.
“Do you now?” I folded my arms over my chest as I stared at him.
My eyes automatically drew to the symbol on his forehead, seemingly fading in the dim light of the morning but still essentially prominent. The swirling black lines were of a different sort than the tattoos on his arms, striking me as out of place and igniting my curiosity, despite the irritation I held with him.
He tilted his head, loose strands of dark hair falling out of his braid. “The question, I think, is do you?”
“Quit trying to talk circles around me!” I snapped. “Just answer my damn questions or get the hell out of my way.” My arms dropped from my chest as I moved to push past him, his ill presence ruining the serene moment I had obtained. I would be better off staring into the nothing in the silent campsite.
He didn’t move, standing there like a damned iron wall so I gingerly stepped around him, shooting him my most poisonous look as I did. He waited until I had gotten completely past him before he spoke again.
“He had no choice in fucking you.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t turn but my eyes narrowed in anger. I gritted my teeth. “Jealousy does not become you,” I snarkily shot back. “He came after me.”
“You would like to think that, wouldn’t you?”
I resisted the urge to push him off the rock. Undoubtedly, I wouldn’t have succeeded anyways but the desire was there. He was such an asshole. A good soaking in the frigid waters would have done him some good. But I had no doubt he would have found a way to quickly retaliate, and I couldn’t swim.
However, my words could be just as biting. “You have no--"
He cut me off quickly, and I could feel the brush of air as he whirled around. “No! It is you who have no right!” he snarled. “Coming here out of nowhere! We didn’t ask for this! None of us want to be your whim!”
His words struck something inside me, a jarring recognition that I couldn’t quite place. I turned, anger blooming in my cheeks. I didn’t know what he was accusing me of but I was sick and tired of his bullying.
“Bastard!” I cursed, my voice coming out low and very, very pissed. “Stop taking out your fear on me! Go do your fucking slave duties like you’re supposed to!”
To this, he paled considerably, a great feat considering how light-skinned he already was. Yeah, it was cruel of me, but I was tired of being his little stepping-stone. Constance had tortured me. Strange men in painted bodies tried to make off with me, for god knows what. No one wanted to answer my questions and there was some strange creature that desired blood inside of my body. I didn’t need any more drama.
“Yeah,” I continued venomously, voice edged with a hint of danger, betraying my true, tumultuous anger and emotions. “I know about that. I know all about what those earrings mean and what you really are. Melath is your master, meaning he can do whatever and whomever he wants and you have no say! You’re nothing but a slave, Vincent, and in some places, that’s lower than a dog!” I spat before turning on my heels, mouth set in grim determination. I never said I wasn’t a complete bitch; it just took a while for the fear to be replaced by the bitchiness.
“How dare you?” he hissed, struggling to find some control. I could feel the rage building within him, it practically flowed from his body, but deep beneath it, I could sense his hurt and I was not ashamed to admit that I felt satisfied with that.
“You know nothing, nothing about me!” he roared, while I continued to ignore him, finally having made my way to the bank.
I considered my part in the conversation through. I knew he wouldn’t try to save me, but I also knew that he didn’t dare kill me. If I could even be killed. Bah, I wasn’t about to get into that personal discussion within myself.
“A whore has nothing to say about my life!”
I took a deep breath, eyes narrowing as I abruptly stopped in my tracks, just on the shore of the river. Had he just called me a whore? This was rapidly becoming a name-calling contest but I couldn’t stop myself.
I looked over my shoulder where he stood on the boulder. “Fuck you!” I hissed, loud enough for him to hear before I turned back around, intending to go back to the campsite. Until something caught my eyes, a flitting movement in the trees that lined the riverbank to my right.
I swiveled my sight back in that direction, peering through the mist and branches. Had I imagined it? Then I saw it again, a white motion, a fluttery movement almost like a cloak. There was a person there, I think. Perhaps someone from the now abandoned village. I felt no fear from the movements of this unidentified individual, only a rising curiosity, and before I knew it, I was moving in the direction of it, fight with Vincent forgotten until he spoke up again.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
I didn’t dignify his command with a response, ignoring him completely as I picked my way across the rocky riverbank towards the flitting shape. A sense of urgency had built up inside of me, as if this was a chance I had to take, that this was an opportunity I could not miss.
I had to know.
*****
a/n: A bit longer than usual but it's not like you guys mind, right? Stop and leave a comment! I'd love to hear from you. Thanks for reading. The next update should come soon!