Chapter 7

Eku was somehow anxious.

He has made Visenna drink the Blood Rose by boiling its petals by the beginning of the latter’s final trimester. The blood rose water was no doubt identical to an oozing vibrant red blood.

He doesn’t give a damn to the consequences for now. The only important thing in this instant is the survival of both his daughter and his Irish wife.

He was still peering by the delivery room when Romaine, his wife’s best friend, approached him in a violet-fitting dress.

“I’ve already told you Mazari,” Romaine addressed the botanist by his second name.

“I’ve told you even before you ventured into that cursed blood rose that one flower will only save and immortalize one individual!”

Eku seems to be still deafened even by how many times his one-time mistress reiterated the horrid truth. 

Well, it was Romaine who seduced him when he was drunk anyway. He knew Romaine already lusted after him even before Visenna and him were wed. Though, deep in the ventricles of Eku’s heart, Visenna is the only woman he would gladly die for.

“There’s always an exception…” 

“That’s according to Science! But this—” Romaine waved a hand to the surroundings and into the ongoing delivery of  Visenna Caoimhe Byrnes, “This is supernatural! This is beyond your god-damn theories and hypotheses or whatsoever!”

Eku looked at the auburn-haired woman in front of him with utter disgust and disbelief.

Yes, I know that bitch! I know that even before your wide-opened crevice slithered down on my elusive serpent hidden beneath my jeans!

It seems it is to Eku that Rozelyn inherited the iconic internal monologue.

“If ever that your claim is absolutely true…” Eku then took a deep breath and released it into the night’s cold September air, “...then I shall just accept whoever among them will be blessed by Ambrosia. After all, we all are destined to suffer. Even an immortal blood-sucking creature like you who calls herself the Supreme of the Irish Coven, can still perceive suffering and misery just like anyone on this planet.”

Romaine stared at him blankly. She can smell and discern the dismay flowing in this man’s veins. 

If he just looked and journeyed to the flower earlier, none of this would happen.

Romaine thought in curiosity, definitely appalling.

“Why didn’t you get the flower even before you two were married?”

Eku diverted his gaze from his wife's best friend and muttered, 

“There is always a right timing for everything.”

***

Rozelyn was sitting quietly in the car’s back seat. She can’t believe that her stepmom has been stroking his father’s violin even before her mother’s death. 

Romaine, who’s surprisingly driving by now after their supper at her nephew’s diner, was somehow debating if it was just right to reveal to her stepdaughter about her affair with Eku or to just completely wither it away in the abyss of her mind. 

Well, Rozelyn is eighteen already. She’s definitely knowledgeable by now pertaining to these kinds of things.

Unbeknownst to Romaine, Rozelyn can clearly and precisely hear her stepmom’s thoughts. It seems she’d hit a jackpot in a casino. Being a contemporary Thaumaturge is indeed a huge perk and advantage for a belittled young lady like her.

Romaine waited for the traffic light to switch red before she decided to confess.

“I was the one who let you dream on that day.”

“What?” Rozelyn was entirely baffled. But, upon peering at Romaine’s thoughts, she began to ooze with abhorrence.

Rozelyn just kept her mouth shut and pretended that she’s still confused. She is definitely one hell of a cunning individual.

“I was the one who let you dream that nightmare before your birthday. I was trying to send you a message that your entire life will soon drastically change upon stepping into the world of adulthood.”

“I see… so you’re kind of warning me by turning my angelic face into a wretched, hideous creature? Perhaps you should apply to an advertising agency, Romaine. Your sufficient warning skills will indeed be foreseen by clients and spectators,”  Rozelyn countered sarcastically. Her face winced and scowled while muttering those insults to her stepmom. 

It’s absolutely true that being a vampire has changed the way she’s dealing with people. From being a monstrous anaconda, she transitioned into a much more horrific Scylla.

“Honey, please. You know love is a rebellious bird that no one can ever tame,” Romaine stated in a pitchy tone and puppy eyes.

Don’t you dare call me ‘Honey’, woman. I’m no tiny bee!

Rozelyn seems to take advantage of her stepmom’s inability to hear her mental thoughts.

“Love...or Lust?” Rozelyn asked with a smirk painted on her brown-skinned lovely face.

Romaine, though quite unsettled by her stepdaughter’s recent attitude, suddenly halted the car in the middle of the moonlit road.

Please don’t tell me this is another of those big bad wolf incidents…

Rozelyn privately stated to herself. 

She’s tired of those paranormal road incidents since her vampire ascension. She hoped this time it's not werewolves feasting and vampires drinking in the middle of the pathway. Perhaps she’d be more delighted if they’ll be bumped by the Annabelle doll or the screeching ghost of Anna Baker.

“Don’t tell me it's another wolfie boy again…” Rozelyn gallantly asserted to Romaine.

“Unfortunately darling, it is.”

She frowned in the most frightening way Romaine had ever seen.

“Ohh Rozelyn please! It’s...it’s just my boyfriend Dorrien Ronan.”

Romaine then gestured to the man to come closer. He was wearing nothing on top but his sweaty olive-colored skin that shimmers under the bright light of the Corn Moon. His six-pack abs and towering 6’4 height made Rozelyn realize why her stepmom chose to pound this young man more than any other of Romaine’s older suitors.

“Hello, Dorrien! I don’t think this is the right schedule to flirt with my stepmom. You see, I still have classes tomorrow and we’re on our way home so that I can have enough rest,” Rozelyn declared as a form of greeting to the young man. 

Romaine, who’s obviously as red as a Carolina reaper, peered at her stepdaughter to shut her god-damn mouth.

Dorrien then opened the car door beside the driver’s seat. His tattered blue jeans made Rozelyn wince in an unethical manner.

He’s a werewolf but he can’t buy even simple cheap clothes?

Rozelyn was again having her private declamation piece.

“It’s okay. Your stepmom told me that I can come with her tonight since I’ll be leaving for Surrey tomorrow. Our alpha has somehow assigned a task for me. You see, there’s a werewolf attack in that place. And it is the job of the Irish Coven, who administer both English and Irish werewolves, to remain our kind and your kind concealed and hidden from the public eyes. So, he’s sending me there to give a valid reason for that attack so that the mortals won’t suspect supernatural causes.”

Rozelyn was somehow left speechless by Dorrien’s explanation. Well, she can vividly smell that he’s telling the truth and not just fabricating a bluff.

Romaine then again started the automobile and proceeded to drive home.

***

“You go first, sweetie. I’ll be inside for an hour,” Romaine said to Rozelyn as the latter grabbed her school bag and briskly walked inside.

Upon opening the door, she noticed a pink sticky note by the lamp-side table.

I’ll be in the sanctum tonight. Bought you two some delicious strawberry cake in the fridge.

Our alpha, Avril Arke, has called for an emergency meeting.

Best,

Cyrill

Rozelyn then kept the note in her glittery lavender journal and walked towards the fridge.

Her mind seemed to not care about anything as soon as her tongue tasted the sumptuous cold cake.

In less than a minute, she was drowned in utter strawberry sweetness.

***

Dorrien and Romaine just stared at each other—like a wolf that’s about to prey on a lamb.  

Their discarded clothes were already on the floor of her navy blue Sedan. 

They’re lucky that the car has some brilliantly tinted windows to hinder any external eyes from peering at them. 

Without a doubt, their eyes sparkle—a signal to begin the primeval dance.

And they began their disrobed private tango.