CHAPTER 139 - PROGRESSING PLANS IV

-THIRD PERSON’S POV-

“What is this hustler’s name?” Seff engaged Jarvaldo with the business card in his hand. He rose from the chair and his foot knocked over the empty communion wine bottle. It clinked and rolled on the floor.

“He goes by the pseudonym of Shekel Moneta,” Jarvaldo divulged. “Give him a call. Tell him that you’re my guy.”

Seff stopped the bottle with his foot and bent over to steady it on the floor. When he straightened, he took out his new Android phone to make the call. He wasn’t in the bullshit today with Jarvaldo. He assessed the business card and whispered the contact details:

1 000 EZE BUCKS

Looking back at his phone, Seff procrastinated at the dialpad section. Doubtfully, he punched the digits. He knew he got the first part right but where was the rest of the numbers to complete the standardized ten-digit contact.

Seff grimaced, pursing his lips. “E. Z. E. ―” His crimson eyes narrowed as he searched the number keypad for the words to press. “Where are you ‘eze’ and ‘bucks’?”

Jarvaldo snickered, holding down his laugh. He knew well that Seff was absolutely clueless about what to do and enjoyed his misery.

“Are you playing with me?” Seff fussed, darting a mad gaze at his comrade, feeling frustrated because he was stuck and Jarvaldo’s behavior meant that he was up to something. “Is this phone defective?”

“No.” Jarvaldo shook his short, shaggy, brush-cut pearly-white head, folding his lips under to conceal his amusement.

Seff resumed his efforts on the phone, grinding his teeth because he could not figure it out. Steaming with impatience, he shouted after a minute of trying to solve how to make that phone call. “Telephone numbers aren’t supposed to have words! That’s what the fucking technician taught me.”

Jarvaldo burst out a deep, snort-filled laugh. He slumped backward in his chair with his upper body jerking from his humor.

The entire time, Seff’s anger was boiling. Irately, he scratched his cotton puffs of white hair. He remembered when Jarvaldo had tricked him into tasting some white powdery stuff that got him as high as a kite. His high ass tripped on the stairs, and as he was going down, he farted loudly and crash-landed onto the mother superior.

Seff practically began humping the petrified, screaming nun. When Jarvaldo got him off her, Seff sat there a minute at the bottom of the stairs, giggling, before shifting into his large blue-black wolf and running off to do some other stupid shit that would make even the devil laugh. His wolf had never been more doped.

“If you don’t shut up and tell me how this works, I’ll wrap this communion tray around your neck.” Seff erupted, threatening to use his metal-bending power in a loathing tone.

Jarvaldo's laughter died down. He blew Seff off with a hand and rose to stand by him to explain how to substitute the letters with numbers. Finally, Seff made the call, cursing under his breath while the phone rang at his ear.

Once the call ended, Seff alerted his boss, “Dymian, I’m off.”

Dymian nodded curtly and Jarvaldo followed him out.

"Rovell, let's go and visit Mrs. Bumpkin. We’ll also put in our order to the pirates of the Vale." Dymian stepped from his desk.

Farrah mutely gazed out the window.

His second-in-command arched his full white brows, wondering why make the requisition from the underworld when the money ought to be present first. Nonetheless, Rovell repelled raising his objections because of the finality in Dymian’s tone. He settled down with a nod.

"Farrah, go and monitor the portals. Do not leave the chapel," Dymian ordered.

She bowed and in two strides his husky voice warned, "I hope that I don't have to tell you to stay away from the alpha prince while I’m gone."

Farrah groused internally that she had no intention of seeing Vaheed. Outwardly she responded politely, "Of course not.”

Priest Ramcrook entered the study, meeting Dymian and Rovell before they got to the doorway.

“Father Dymian, you have a visitor.” Father Ramcrook informed him with hands behind his back. “He claims to be Alpha Rowling.”

Dymian smirked evilly. “By all means, I’ll meet him in the auditorium.”

“I’ll go and receive him,” Rovell went off, immediately.

Dymian exited with the priest, talking.

Farrah watched them leave and sighed. She had been busy using whatever power boost she stole from the red wolf to create portals at the two sinkholes they left in Bolivia and Uganda.

Fucking Selene closed all their past entry points into the realms. Now they had no old connections to count on for the war they would wage. That was why they relied on the pirates of the Vale in the underworld to secure a passageway to a particular realm.

While buried in her thoughts, she made her way to the roof.

Ever since she met Vaheed, something inside her twisted. It tied her gut into knots of conflicting emotions. While Dymian had a past mate whom he killed, Vaheed was her first mate. The irrepressible experience nagged her. The uncontrollable bond pulled at her so hard that she could barely avoid him.

She was miserable.

Lust, desire, and hunger mauled her daily. Something fervid swirled inside of her for the low-down prince. Something not even Dymian could give her. Right now, the thought of continuously being in Dymian’s bed was starting to make her sick to the stomach. She hid it well.

Indeed, it was hard not to go to the basement to see him. Her wolf yearned for his scent. Dymian could certainly sense the change, yet he told her not to reject him. He planned to use the mate bond to an advantage. To what extent? She didn't know. Apparently, he was keeping things from her. It was unusual of him to act in this way.

These erotic feelings were alien.

Farrah knew only purpose. Fighting for a reason. Fucking for an objective. She knew not love.

Nothing in her life had ever been just because. Together with her comrades and Selene, they fought many battles and won. Their last feud was against the moon goddess and the other four Worgens, which they failed back then. Though it was the same fight that landed them in a perennial slumber with their powers sealed.

Farrah ended up on the flat concreted roof of the chapel standing in the center of two domes. The sun was setting. A coolness descended on the land. The faraway street had a busy line of traffic. It was the end of the day and people were trying to get home.

Home.

She had no home.

A hollow sensation tore at her chest with the desire for one.

A whispering breeze flowed around her, whisking up her long, white strands in a slow, swaying dance in the air. She closed her eyes as it caressed her face, driving her distressing thoughts away. She drew a large intake of its freshness, feeling peace.

"Don't walk away from what I’ve given you." A voice softly whispered as the wind whirled around her.

Farrah's eyes flicked open. They scanned the surroundings but she was alone. Both of her hands threaded through her flying wavy strands to keep them away from her face.

"Do not defy your destiny." The breathy female voice graced her ears once more. "You know the right course."

Was it Dymian getting into her head to test her? Or was it a direct message from Selene?

Peace deserted Farrah, leaving an awry sensation in her stomach and muddled mind.

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