“Thank the Gods you’re here!” He exclaims, then frowns when he notices Valeria behind me, his crimson-red eyes narrow into slits and a snarl begins bubbling in his throat. “Aqen, she’s my animai,” I say sternly. Fastest way to get him to not question her being here, and it’s not like I’m lying. He blinks rapidly, his face depicting his shock, but it gets him to relax, “I had no idea. You found your animai? Isolde, that’s delightful news!” He cheers. I walk over and place a hand on his shoulder, “You can congratulate me another time, right now let’s take care of your animai, hmm?” I say with a kind smile. He takes a breath and nods, stepping aside and holding the door open. I look back at Valeria, “Are you coming?” She’s staring at me in confusion but follows me into the house, “What language were you just speaking?” “Ancient Egyptian.” Her frown deepens, “That’s a dead language. People haven’t spoken it for thousands of years; I don’t think anyone even knows how to speak it an
As I watch Isolde leave the room I can’t help but stare at the two vam… sanguidaes. Okay, that’s going to take some getting used to. For thousands of years, this woman has carried the guilt of what she did to her sister, to the point she’d let herself go crazy and suffer in pain because feeding just reminds her of what she did. No one would choose this life. They may be supernatural, but they’re not monsters, not in the way I’ve been using the words all these years. Henet didn’t kill by choice, I have. Which makes her far more innocent than me. I can’t believe how much my world has changed in less than twenty-four hours. Yesterday I believed I was living a noble life, fighting a great cause that spanned thousands of years. Protecting mankind from supernatural forces, only to realise I was killing innocent people, maybe even defenders of mankind. I’ve always walked with blood on my hands, and I can’t believe I used to be proud of that fact. Now it disgusts me. “I hope you know how rem
~1770~ “Bastien, pick something easier,” my mother whines as we sit in the parlour enjoying our little game. “Now Maeva, you’re only whining because you’re losing,” my father teases as he sits back in his chair. My sister Élodie and I snigger at our parents. “I want to have a turn,” Élodie cheers, raising her hand into the air. “You show them how it’s done,” I encourage her, as she leaps up off the sofa and stands in front of all of us. I watch with pride as my little sister’s hands begin to glow a stunning shade of purple, her eyes turning blacker than night with a pearl of silver in the centre. She waves her hands around and little stars begin to appear in the air and slowly they begin to form a shape. She’s only eleven, but she’s coming so far with her magic, and I couldn’t be more proud. She used to worry that she’d never be as good as me, and our age gap didn’t seem to help quell her fears, but I’ve reassured her since she was a child, she doesn’t have to be as strong as me,
The pain becomes too much, and I begin to scream and wail; agony ripping through my body like knives as images of my family trapped inside, screaming for their lives filter through my mind, and me nowhere to be seen. I failed to protect them. I was meant to be their protector and I let them down. My mother, my father, my sweet little sister and my uncle… my uncle. I look over at Manon, hatred and disgust burning through me hotter than the flames burning my world to the ground, “You killed your own animai. He was a good man who did nothing but love you!” I shout. “A weak, pathetic man who stood in my way. You were gifted power you don’t deserve, that power should be mine, and no animai was going to stand in my way. I will endure the pain of his death because it frees me of our bond,” she says with dark satisfaction. “If you wanted to kill me, then you should have just killed me. They were innocent!” “Collateral damage. I couldn’t risk them saving you, and yet here you are, the thor
I wipe away the tears that slide down my cheeks and try to take in air as I lean back against the tree. Valeria is silent beside me, but scoots closer and wraps her arm around me, bringing my head down to her shoulder, consoling me as I had done for her earlier. I breathe her in and let our proximity bring me comfort, and slowly it becomes easier to breathe. “I’ve never told anyone that story,” I whisper. “Not anyone?” She asks sadly. I shake my head, “Most people fear me or just won’t give me the chance to plead my case. Others attack first, just wanting to be the one to kill me.” Valeria tightens her hold on me, “I’m so sorry, Izzy.” My head snaps up and tears once again pool in my eyes, “What did you just call me?” “Sorry, that was rude to just go giving you a nickname. It just kind of slipped out,” she says apologetically. “No, I’m not mad. My little sister used to call me ‘Izzy’. No one has called me that since she died,” I say sadly, “It was nice to hear, honestly,” I smi
I must have fallen asleep on the couch because I’m suddenly woken up by the sound of a scream. I’ve heard more than my fair share of screams in my life, having been the cause of most of them, but this one sent a chill through my spine, straight to the core of my very being, and instantly made my stomach drop. Adrenaline pumps through me and I immediately become alert. I leap off the couch and run to the sound of Isolde's screams. I find her on the kitchen floor clutching her chest with her face contorted in pain. The sight of it has fear propelling through me in a way I’ve never felt before and I drop to my knees sliding across the tiles and cup her face in my hands, feeling that familiar static shoot through me. My instinct right now is to panic, but I push it down and try to remain calm as I let my training take over and quickly scan the room for any signs of an attacker. “Izzy? Izzy, speak to me, what’s happening?” I urge her to answer, as she struggles to gasp for air. I should
I follow her as we make our way upstairs. “Fretez was killed by Azadou, he was known as the Demon God, but he wasn’t like the other Gods.” “How so?” I used to love my mother telling me stories about the supernatural world, but now I know most of them are all bullshit. However, I have come to love Isolde’s stories a million times more. When my mother told me stories, it was from an outsider's perspective, full of hate and lies and like some bad version of Chinese Whispers. But Isolde speaks with truth, knowledge, and passion. This is her history and the history of supernaturals like her. I’m understanding among her kind, a High Priest and Priestess aren’t just super powerful, they’re keepers of knowledge, passing it from one generation to the next to help them. Keeping the past alive in order to safeguard the future. It’s this mind-blowing rich culture with an intricate tapestry of their history, and it pains me to know I spent my life trying to snuff it out. “As I’ve told you, each
“Hey, wait for me!” I shout, quickly wrapping the tablet back in the cloth and locking it back in the chest. I race after Valeria with great difficulty since this stupid bullet graze continues to restrict some of my movements, I think it went a little deeper than originally thought. I really need to ask Alaric to heal it at some point, even though I hate asking him for help. I catch up to Valeria who smirks her sexy smirk at me. Thankfully she’s not mad at me anymore, which is a huge relief. I nearly called her my animai and would have had to go into the whole explanation that our souls are magically bonded, and I’m just not ready for that. As far as she has come and as open-minded as she is becoming these days, I’m scared the moment she learns magic is responsible for this connection we have, she’ll become enraged and leave me. A week ago I planned to reject her and now the thought of her running away terrifies me. Valeria is the first good thing to happen in my life in centuries, a