Chapter 11 Elodie #2
“They are probably the supernaturals most against The Sanctum,” she admits, and I frown.
“In what sense?”
She shrugs. “They don't like to feel like they're being controlled.
The highest percentage of rebels on the outside are vampires.
They're more than happy to leave a trail of blood in their path to prove a point,” she says, and I shudder at the thought.
“The Obsidian Circle was known as the worst,” she adds, and I gulp.
“Was?” I clarify, my stomach churning as I realize what little issues I’ve actually been dealing with in here in comparison to what’s happening in the rest of the world. Maybe I am safer here, under The Sanctum’s control, than left exposed to angry vampires.
“They've been in hiding since their leaders were captured,” she says, and my gut only seems to twist tighter.
“If they don’t have any leaders, wouldn't you assume the rebellion as a whole would be gone?”
The scoff that vibrates from Ocean’s chest cuts through the air, threatening to steal my breath. “Nothing as dark and twisted as that could ever truly be gone,” she states, the words hitting my chest like a bullet, leaving me to scramble for my next breath.
“I don't think I want to know anymore,” I admit, and she offers me a tight smile.
“Rikard was a member,” she mutters, and an icy chill runs through my veins as my eyes widen in shock. “He double-crossed them long ago, securing his place on The Sanctum. The what, how, why, or specifically when, few know, but no one will ever forget that you can’t trust him,” she adds.
All I can do is gape at her in disbelief, but just like with most things here, it doesn’t make sense.
“That's insane,” I whisper, staring up at the sky as though an answer might fall down any moment and piece it all together for me, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I’m left swirling between the facts I thought I knew. When I asked about vampires, this isn’t what I imagined.
“All I know is that folklore says vampires can't be out in the sunlight, but it seems folklore did me dirty, because they’re fine here,” I say, waving a hand toward Kael, and Ocean laughs. A giggle resonates in my chest too as I smile along with her.
“In the real world, they need the aid of a witch to walk in the daylight. So the folklore isn't quite wrong, but here in The Vale, a world created purely for Supernaturals, they’re perfectly fine to roam as they please.”
“So they really are little blood-sucking assholes,” I mutter, and her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“I think you've seen that for yourself,” she states, recalling the phenomenal interaction I had with Tiran when he feasted on me instead of attacking Ocean like he had intended.
“Yeah, I definitely felt that.” I clear my throat, focusing on my steps as I consider what else I might be able to learn.
Maybe something a little lighter. “What about the wolves?” I ask, aware that I've also been attacked by one of them, their claws scraping across my flesh like a knife through butter.
My face tingles, as if the mark is there once again.
My gaze instinctively tracks her among the crowd, finding the wolf in question behind us. There’s a little distance still, but if we don’t up our speed, she’s going to be beside us sooner than I would like. I increase my pace and Ocean keeps at my side without questioning it.
“What do you know about them already?” she asks, peering at me, and I bite back a grimace.
“Apart from the sharpness of their claws?” I mutter, and she winces.
“Yeah, apart from that.”
I try to recall any of the different facts I know, but it’s easy to realize all that I think I know comes from different television series and movies that I would watch with Walker back home.
Regardless, I offer what I have. “I don't get a general sense of a pack,” I blurt, comparing my current surroundings to the movies. My cheeks heat as Ocean hums.
“That is pretty accurate, to be fair, but a lot of these wolves aren't here for a good time; they’re here as punishment. Especially if they're in Institute Thirteen like us,” she divulges, making my stomach clench at another reminder of our destiny, combined with the fact that we’re all freaking murderers.
I shudder at the weight of the word as I desperately try to focus on the lighter facts. “What was that you said before about their mates?” I murmur, and she smiles.
“And spit out fur balls?” she says with a chuckle, and I let the sweet sound settle into my bones, easing the tension twisting inside of me.
Tilting my head at her, I clear my throat. “What happens when they shift back from being a wolf? Where do their clothes go? No one's ever shown me that in the movies. That's the part I'm interested in the most,” I ramble, the lilt of laughter still carrying my words.
“That's what you want to know?” Ocean clarifies with a smirk, blindly pointing over her shoulder. “I can holler for Rion to show you if you want?” she offers, and I quickly shake my head.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I insist, making her smile spread wider.
“The glint in your eyes is calling you a liar,” she states, and I swiftly look away, pressing my lips together in a thin line to hide whatever else she might see.
“Maybe talking about shadow fae might be a safer topic,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest as I continue to avoid her gaze.
“Well, they're elusive as hell, and no longer in existence, apart from Thorne, of course,” she asserts, and I nod.
“Apart from Thorne,” I repeat, my gaze cutting across the field, spotting him immediately.
His dark-brown curls fall across his face, over his eyebrows, hiding his deep eyes from view.
His posture has an air of superiority to it with every step he takes, but the tension in his shoulders is noticeable, even from here.
“He looks like he carries the weight of the world,” I admit, earning another hum of acknowledgement from Ocean, which cuts my gaze to her.
“The loss of his kind will forever be inked in history.”
I recoil. “That bad?”
She shakes her head. “Worse.” My eyebrows rise in surprise as she clears her throat. “What they did to his sister…” she starts, unable to finish the sentence, but it’s enough to make my heart race with fear.
“Who?” I push, and she shrugs.
“We don't know.”
“What do you mean, you don't know?” I blurt, a little angrier than necessary.
“I mean, it was never declared. There were rumors about The Obsidian Circle and a few other rebellions, but nothing has ever been publicly confirmed. They were all formed with the same cause, to tear down The Sanctum, but there are too many people wanting to consolidate the power under one leadership.”
Pausing, I reach for her arm to steady myself. “Wait, you're telling me someone or something overtook an entire supernatural species and no one took ownership of that?”
If that were a fight down at the trailer park back home, people who weren't even present would be claiming victory just for the bragging rights. It doesn't make any sense.
Ocean shrugs, no answer to solve the confusion twisting my insides.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I mumble, and she huffs.
“Neither does anything else around here,” she grumbles, reiterating her thoughts from earlier as my gaze snags across the field to the last shadow fae.
The moment my eyes latch onto him, I’m instantly reminded of the memorabilia he has in his room, each item representing his family, and my gut clenches.
“What did they do to his sister?” I breathe, and Ocean shakes her head. As her lips part, waiting for her tongue to find the right words to say, I yelp, stumbling forward as someone collides with my side.
Thankfully, with Ocean’s quick instincts as she reaches out to grab me, I manage to remain on my feet. Snapping my head up, I’m not entirely surprised to find Tiran stalking ahead of us, glancing back over his shoulder with a snarl on his lips.
“Asshole,” I bite, straightening myself as I stand tall and run my hands over my vest.
“Are you okay?” Ocean asks, and I nod, squeezing her arm in appreciation.
“I’m fine. It’s just a little man with pencil dick syndrome,” I grumble, shaking my head as I try to remain alert.
Refocusing my attention on exploring the supernatural world, my gaze latches onto my palms, directing my curiosity inward. “What am I?”
Ocean takes a moment to respond, doubling down on glaring at the back of Tiran’s head for a few extra moments before she turns to glance at me.
“Honestly, you’re a legend more than anything,” she states, and a burst of laughter parts my lips as I flutter my eyelashes, giving her my most angelic look.
“Thanks, I try,” I joke, and she rolls her eyes, wagging her finger at me.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, that's disappointing,” I grumble, and she grins.
“Seriously, I've never met a scythe in person. Most people don't believe they exist because they don't live long enough to be seen,” she admits.
“Which begs the question of why I'm still alive.” Goosebumps prick the back of my neck as the familiar sense of loss drenches me.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she muses, and I sigh, my gut heavy with disappointment.
“With the way they treated me the other day, my only guess is that someone wants me to be their weapon,” I confess, a shudder running through my body as I recall the pain I suffered in their presence.
“Their weapon?” Ocean repeats, and I nod. “Are they aware you’re a whole-ass person?” she blurts, and I shrug.
“Not to them.”
Her lips pinch with distaste. “That's unethical and totally disgusting.”
I hum in agreement. “Do you think I could find anything more out about myself?” Hope blossoms in my chest, faltering slightly when she winces with uncertainty.
“Maybe in the library,” she offers, and my eyes widen.
“I didn't even know there was one,” I state, and she gives me a knowing look.