Seasonal Soiree
9
The clouds in the sky darken to different shades of grey as they make their way towards Grosvenor Square together in silence. The moon hangs low, full and bright like a beacon, casting long shadows across the gravelly road.
Kora walks alongside Clarence. His posture standing tall and proud, finely dressed in a black waistcoat and matching shirt. His crimson cravat standing out against the neutral palette of his outfit. A proper soiree outfit for an eligible man.
Her long silver dress is flowing around her body in a shower of silk while the bodice is tight up against her skin, revealing more chest than she would have liked on display. The tight laces of her corset dig into her skin ever so slightly, but it’s still quite bearable. She’s slightly nervous about attending the first gathering of the season, and the first one Kora is attending as an eligible girl for society. Butterflies seem to have swarmed her stomach, fluttering about nervously.
Tension grows inside of her chest like a weight pressing down on her breathing as they walk towards the Bladesmith manor side by side.
The manor stands out amongst the neighbouring ones. It’s regal and prominent in stature, delicately made with lacework and intricate details chiselled into the stonework. The Bladesmith crest carved into the wall beside the open doors leading into the atrium .
Kora can feel her pulse rising the closer they get to the soiree, beating through her ears and throat uncontrollably. Her palms are hot and clammy with nervous sweat.
Other Seraphim around them are making their way inside the manor. Some walking along with them, others pulling up in handsome cabs with family crests painted on the sides in majestic colours. Kora doesn’t mind that they always walk to any social event together.
It’s traditional for the man of the family to present their eligible girls to society, and that new role falls onto Clarence.
The garden of the manor is sophisticated and colourful; bushes dotted with purple, white, and pink petals. Bellflowers, delphinium and holly hock intermingling together. In the centre of the path, a large fountain spouts water high into the air. Pruned trees in shapes of animals line the walkway.
Robert and Lucy stand at the entrance greeting all of their invited guests. They’re suavely dressed in elegant pieces and expensive threads.
Kora’s always been slightly jealous of the Bladesmith’s, but she’s also glad she wasn’t brought up to be a snooty, arrogant child like Charles was.
“Welcome Clarence and Miss Hamilton. Do come inside out of the cold.” Lucy’s Irish accent welcomes them as they approach. “As always, thank you for attending. I believe a few of your friends are already inside.” She says sweetly, ushering them through the doorway and into the entrance hall.
Large decorative wooden doors open, allowing the warm light from inside to flood out into the street. Gentle music flows through the hallways. The smell of appetisers and champagne filling the air.
“Thank you, Mrs Bladesmith.” Clarence says for the two of them, kissing the back of her hand gently before strolling inside. Kora just gives her a polite nod, following her brother in.
The ballroom within the Bladesmith manor always amazes Kora. It’s almost as extravagant as the ballroom in the Ascendancy. Oversized arched windows with white trimmed ceilings. Solid pillars wrapped in ivy stalks and large candle stacks placed around the fringes of the room. The shiny marble flooring is smooth and polished, with a large space for dancing and tables with chairs scattered around the border.
Staff dressed in drab clothing wander around with shiny trays filled with flutes of alcoholic refreshments.
Everyone is elegantly dressed. Some guests are dancing already, while others are giggling over bubbly drinks. The Bladesmith’s always go overboard with their gatherings.
Kora spots Daisy talking closely with Matthew and Alice. Her dark skin glowing under the bright candlelight. Kora goes to approach them when Clarence’s arm catches hers. “It is polite to greet everyone when you arrive as an eligible girl.” He mutters into her ear.
“I suppose I still have a lot to learn when it comes to courting.” Her voice is lower, like she is slightly embarrassed. Daisy gave her some tips, but nothing really prepares you like diving headfirst into the setting.
Clarence just grins amusingly at her. “You will learn, Kora.”
Giving a small half-smile, she nods and straightens herself, forgetting about her friends for a moment and following her brother around the ballroom, shaking hands and having hers kissed by dozens of men. She finds it somewhat repulsive that men think kissing her hand will entice her enough to fall madly in love with them. She has to force herself not to roll her eyes each time they say something amorous, especially when her brother is standing right beside her.
After what seems like ages, Kora finds herself in front of Lawrence Blackwell, Matthew and Alice’s father, who already reeks of stale wine and tobacco.
Clarence is busy speaking with Daisy’s parents a few feet away from her, so Kora decides she can handle this on her own. She extends her hand to Lawrence for a formal handshake when he pulls her into an uncomfortable embrace. She feels his wet puffy lips on her cheek, and he makes a sound which makes her heart thump unpleasantly. “I wish Matthew saw what I see in you, Miss Hamilton.” His voice is slow and drained as he murmurs lowly into her ear.
Kora pulls herself away from him before he has time to say anything else appalling. “I should get back to my brother, Mr Blackwell.”
She turns to leave when his hand catches hers, pulling her to a halt. “I can give you everything you need and want.” His slurring voice draws out.
Kora tugs at her hand, but his grip is surprisingly strong for someone who doesn’t seem to have everything together. “Thank you, but I am fine, Mr Blackwell.” She assures him.
Lawrence gives a small, unusual noise which sends shivers down her back. Her pale skin prickling in fear. She has never felt comfortable around this man, but something about her suddenly being eligible makes him seem even more uneasy.
She can feel her stomach swirling around inside of her like a windmill spinning in a violent storm.
“Come on, Miss Hamilton. You know I could make you a great and honourable husband.”
“I said I am fine,” Kora’s voice is curt this time, “and there is nothing honourable about you.” She tugs her hand out of his grip, rubbing the reddened skin where he was gripping her tightly.
His light green eyes narrow at hers. They are eerily similar to Matthew’s, yet his are harsher and full of lacklustre. “You are coming with me, Miss Hamilton.” Lawrence breathes out, reaching for her once more but missing.
“Please let me go, Mr Blackwell.” Kora insists firmly. She’s trying desperately to hide the shaking in her tone.
“You are eligible now,” he says proudly, “so any man can have you if they wish, and I wish that upon myself-”
“Leave my friend alone.” She hears Matthew’s voice grit out beside her .
She hadn’t noticed him there. Kora was so focused on not being dragged away by his father.
Lawrence just grins at his son, his eyes half opened like he is fighting himself to stay awake. “Matthew, she is eligible now, and so am I,” he points out to his son, who crosses his arms angrily, “and I think I should properly welcome her to this evening’s event, like a gentleman does.”
“Leave her alone,” Matthew repeats in an angry tone, pushing Kora behind him protectively. “And you’re not a gentleman, father. Go home before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.”
Lawrence’s jaw feathers as he slumps closer to his son, whose hand remains on Kora to keep her guarded from him. “What did you just say to me, boy?” he grumbles. Eyes storming over with anger.
“Lawrence, I think you should leave.” Clarence appears on Kora’s other side, stepping slightly in front of her as well.
“Ah, just the man I want to see,” Lawrence slurs every syllable. “I wish to speak to you about courting Miss Hamilton.”
A growl escapes Clarence’s throat, something Kora has never heard from him. She feels his firm hand on her arm, holding onto her tightly like Matthew is. “Over my dead body, Lawrence. You will never be with my sister. She deserves someone who is sane . I think you should leave before Robert finds you in this… state.” He almost spits the last word at him as if it’s a crude word.
Silently, Lawrence finishes the rest of his drink before sauntering over to the bar and ordering another.
Clarence and Matthew both turn to her. “Kora, are you all right? I apologise about him. I didn’t know he was coming here this evening.” Matthew rushes out in an embarrassed tone.
She gives Matthew a half comforting smile, touching his arm gently. “It’s not your fault, but perhaps no more introductions.” She suggests to the two of them.
“I think Daisy is waiting for you. Matthew, escort her over. I need to speak with someone quickly. ”
Clarence strolls off, leaving Kora in Matthew’s hands. “Are you all right, though? I didn’t know my father was intending on ambushing you tonight.” He says gently. “If I’d have known, I would have made sure he couldn’t leave the manor.”
“Neither did I. But let’s just enjoy our evening and not worry about him anymore.”
Matthew gives a nod of agreement before walking her over to where Daisy and Alice are discussing each other’s gowns for the evening. Daisy lets out a squeal of excitement when her eyes land on Kora’s silver dress. “You look divine.” Delight coating her words as she runs the silk of Kora’s dress through her soft fingertips.
“I think you are speaking about yourself there.” Kora giggles, touching the glossy yellow of Daisy’s gown. The colour reminds Kora of lemons.
Kora turns to Matthew wearing his red suit and black cravat. “Matthew, you are also looking very handsome tonight.”
“I try on the rare occasion,” giving her an effortless shrug, “you look very handsome yourself, Kora.”
She rolls her eyes at him, prompting a laugh from Matthew.
A commotion on the other side of the ballroom catches all of their attention. They all look over to see Lawrence being escorted out by Robert and Percy. Kora looks at Matthew, giving his hand a tight squeeze with her own. His body seems stiff with rage, yet his face remains angelic and soft, as if he’s trying his best to mask every emotion streaming through him.
“Matthew, it will be all right.” She says just audible for only him to hear.
He nods and looks down at her. Kora’s the one soul he’s always able to confide in, yet he can’t bring himself to tell her about his father’s abusiveness and constant intoxication. It’ll be too much for Kora, so Matthew needs to remain strong and not let it get to him. “He’ll make his way home. Probably just needs some sleep with all the work he’s done with recently. ”
That is a blatant lie.
His father hasn’t worked for the Ascendancy in years-not since his mother passed away from childbirth.
“Sure.” Kora says simply, knowing that Matthew is lying, but she doesn’t want to press him right now.
“Would you perhaps like to dance with me, Miss Hamilton?” Matthew suggests.
“Certainly, Mr Blackwell-” She gives a small cringe, realising he has the same name as his father, “Matthew.”
“I heard it as well.” He says as his face pinches like her own.
Grinning, Matthew takes Kora’s hand in his rough one and leads her out into the centre of the floor amongst the other dancing couples. Holding her hand in his, the other secures around her waist as the music picks up around them.
The polka is a fast-paced, upbeat dance-one that Kora has never danced properly. Her feet stumble as she tries to keep up with him, watching the other girls twirling nearby like graceful ballerinas while she moves like a sack of potatoes.
Matthew tries to keep himself from bursting out in laughter but fails. His shoulders shake as he leans closer to her cheek, whispering into her ear, “Don’t worry, I am a terrible dancer as well.”
Kora’s mouth opens in surprise, and she pinches his shoulder, causing Matthew to yelp out. “So, you are calling me a terrible dancer?” Her voice rising louder over the string instruments echoing throughout the room.
Matthew just lets out a small, low chuckle. “So what if we are terrible dancers? Does one really need to perfect the waltz to be accepted into society? I certainly don’t see the significance, and I am sure most of the Ascendancy agrees with me,” he points out. “Perhaps we are dancing perfectly and everyone else is offbeat.”
Kora just grins, showing off the small outline of her dimpled cheek. “You are a terrible liar, Matthew.” Her voice sounding amused .
“Two things I am terrible at then. Dancing and lying, but does that make me a bad person?” His emerald eyes narrowing at hers.
She sees the flash of sarcasm lining his smirk. “You are not a bad person, Matthew. Just misunderstood.”
Kora’s known him all of her life, and never once thought he wasn’t worthy of being her friend. He’s the one person everyone can rely on.
His shoulders twitch. Head tilting to one side slightly as a brow arches. “Misunderstood? I am not a Latin book of ancient fighting stances, Kora.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” she says with a giggle. “I mean, if people think you are bad simply because of things you don’t excel in, then we should all be considered bad. Nobody can be good if they have all done one thing wrong in their lives, or don’t succeed in everything they set out to do.”
His eyebrows jerk up in response. A smirk growing in his mouth as his mind turns. “I like that,” he admits, nodding his head slightly. “I guess we are all bad, then.”
Kora swears she can see a twinkle in his green eyes as he grins.
They continue dancing together until the song ends. Bowing, Matthew escorts her back to their group of friends who are mingling in a corner of the room.
Lewis is sipping on his drink. Daisy is talking about the stew her mother cooked last night, which she despised, and Alice is chewing on her already nibbled fingernails.
Kora listens to Daisy talking for a bit, about how the supposed rabbit stew had turnips and rosemary in it-two things that Daisy detests greatly. Kora knew this from the time Daisy was bedridden with scarlet fever and Kora cooked her homemade soup. Daisy, although delirious from the fever, still complained about how much she had hated the rosemary and turnips. Kora knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, but it hurt her after Kora made an entire pot worth just for Daisy .
Daisy stops to take a breath and Matthew gives an overly loud exhale, “Finally, I thought you would never stop talking about this salty bowl of evilness. Grow up Daisy and eat your turnips.” Patting Daisy on the shoulder as she glares at him for interrupting her story. Matthew ignores this, turning to the rest of the group. “Has anyone seen Jordan yet?”
“Why? Do you have a fondness for him?” Daisy questions with a sly smirk.
Matthew gives her a cynical look, “Oh yes, I just can’t wait to plant a kiss right on his cheekbone-be serious Daisy.” His voice is sardonic.
“I think the Carter’s just arrived.” Alice says shyly in her quiet voice, pointing towards the entrance of the ballroom.
They all look over to see the Carter family entering and a swarm of people crowding them. Their parents walk in first. Tobias in a striking deep blue waistcoat and white cravat, with his wife, Josephine, on his arm in a matching midnight ballgown.
Behind them is a girl with vibrant golden red hair and eyes like a deep sea who Kora can only assume is the Valarie that Lewis couldn’t stop talking about. She is just as beautiful as Kora imagined her to be.
Her eyes glide to the taller boy beside her. Dressed finely in a black coat and white pants, his light sandy hair fluffy and soft. Turquoise eyes bright against his dark clothing. His face is freshly shaven, revealing sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline. Golden skin glowing underneath the candlelight.
Nothing else in the room can distract Kora. She has never been this absorbed in a man before-or really anyone at all. His aura is captivating, and she can’t tear her gaze off of him.
Girls rush to introduce themselves as soon as he steps foot into the ballroom. His hand lifting theirs to his lips one after the other. Their grins beam brightly as he smiles to each of all, but his smile never seems to reach his bright eyes .
Kora can’t help but feel a pang deep inside her chest. Is it jealously? She doesn’t even know why she’s feeling this way. She doesn’t even know Jordan.
But she wants to.
“I can’t believe Lawrence of all people just tried to court you.” Clarence’s voice murmurs into her ear.
Tearing her eyes away from the beautiful boy, she sees her brother standing beside her, wandering what she is so entranced in. “He is gone now, though. I hope he doesn’t try that again.” She says, frowning slightly.
Kora knows Clarence is just as mad as she is at Lawrence’s behaviour as he spits out angrily, “If he tries that again, then I’ll make sure to-” he goes on when Charles wedges himself between them, almost knocking Clarence backwards.
“Oh, sorry Clarence. I didn’t see you there,” Charles says without a note of remorse in his voice, “Miss Hamilton, may I escort you onto the floor for this dance?” he asks quickly.
Without answering, Charles takes her hand into his and kisses the back of it. All Kora can do is shudder at his behaviour.
Clarence begins to protest, but Kora holds up her other hand, giving him a look that only he can read. “I will be fine, brother.” She looks at Charles, who’s donning a crooked smile. One that doesn’t really sit well with her, but she knows it’s rude to turn down a boy who asks. “One dance.” Kora says firmly.
“One dance.” He agrees.
Charles leads her out before she has the chance to reconsider. Pulling her close to him, she can smell Charles’ lingering scent of citrus and dirt, wondering if he was rolling around outside before bathing in oranges and changing for the soiree.
Shaking her head, she looks at him as he gazes down at her. She’s never liked being this close to Charles. There are reasons for her hatred towards him. The words he spoke after her parent’s death, some questionable pranks he pulled on her when they were younger, or-her personal favourite-when he beat her once in practice right after she had just recovered from the influenza, and he celebrated by pushing her into the fountain outside, which made her sick again.
Clarence wasn’t happy with that. Robert ended up grounding Charles for a week, which delighted Kora when she found out.
Pulling Kora out of her thoughts, Charles asks her, “What is on your mind?”
Staring at him blankly, she clears her throat. “Nothing is.”
“I don’t believe that.” His crooked smile returns to his lips. “A lady always has something on her mind. It’s just if she’s willing to share it or not.”
“Well, I guess I am not willing to share it with you then.”
“Fine.” He responds sourly.
Kora clenches her jaw at him, frustration biting at her nerves. “I know your parents thought they taught you manners,” she begins, “but it is extremely rude to interrupt a conversation between people. Especially siblings.”
Charles looks taken aback for a second. He peers around the room before setting his eyes on Clarence, who is happily speaking with Daisy now. “I didn’t think a conversation with your brother would be of importance at a soiree. Normally, people discuss serious topics in the privacy of their own residence.”
“That does not mean you can intervene in any conversation between family members.”
“I wanted to dance with you, Kora.”
That’s the first time in a long time he hasn’t called her Miss Hamilton. Charles, calling her by her Christian name, somehow doesn’t sit right in her stomach. “You should have waited like everyone else. You don’t just barge in when Clarence is speaking with me.”
“Oh, come on,” Charles breathes out, tossing his head backwards in frustration, “are you really going to hate me for the rest of your life, Kora?” questioning her .
For a moment Kora thinks about answering with an immediate of course I will , before rethinking it. If he is to be the next leader of the Ascendancy, then she doubts she’ll want to be on his enemy list, or at least at the very top of that list. “Perhaps not.” She says slowly, trying not to allude to anything.
“I would like us to be friends.”
Kora shoots him a look of disbelief, her feet stilling underneath her. “Friends,” she repeats, her voice so subtle Charles can barely hear it. She sniffs a laugh before adding, “A friend is not someone who has tormented you all of your life, ridiculed you in front of others, and turned everything little thing into a competition. A friend is someone who, like Matthew, listens and helps me when I need them to. You are not my friend, Charles, not after what you said to me about my parent’s deaths.” Her voice is harsh, like a serrated knife.
Charles goes to say something, but then his mouth closes as if he reconsiders what he was about to yell back at her.
Kora pushes back the tears stinging in her eyes and drops her hand from his. “I am sorry you wasted your time, Charles, but I can’t dance with you anymore.”
The song continues playing by the ensemble in the corner, but she can’t be in Charles’ presence for another second. She turns away, wanting nothing more than to bolt outside for some fresh air, but his grip on her is too strong. “You need me more than you think, Kora,” he breathes out, his breath tickling her ear and neck as he speaks, “did you really think I wouldn’t find out about you and your brother having financial issues?”
Her head whips around, eyes widening at him. “You have no idea what you’re speaking about, Charles.” Cutting him an icy glare.
“No?” he questions her. Green eyes hooding with hilarity. She watches a faint smile growing on his face. There’s always been something about Charles she’s never liked, as if his energy is bad or his snootiness has made him too unbearable. “I know that your precious brother is scrounging around for extra money. Something that the Elders will frown upon if they find out. Then, your brother will be utterly humiliated in front of the whole Ascendancy, ending any chance of him being wedded to someone of worth.”
Kora tries pushing him off her without causing a scene, but his hold on her is tight.
His voice is so soft, mouth pressed up against the shell of her ear. It drips heavily with loathing and deception. “My family can help you. Both of you.” Charles proposes gently.
She shakes her head lightly. “You don’t want to help me unless there’s something in it for you. You only think of yourself, Charles, and I am not poor enough to strike up a deal with you.”
A twinkle in his eyes sends a shiver down her spine. Neither of them had noticed the music stopping, and people turning to watch them in their quarrelling dispute. Most of the other dancing couples are moving off the floor, leaving the two of them in this awkward situation.
“I’d reconsider if I were you,” Charles continues to tease, “Miss Hamilton.”
Her name on his lips startles her once again. Pulling herself from his grip, Kora lifts the skirt of her silver gown and hurries away. Glancing back over her shoulder to see Charles’ face tightening and following her, she walks right into someone.
Losing balance, she stumbles backwards, but his hand catches her before she can make an even bigger embarrassment of herself and fall onto her behind in front of every watching eye. A small gasp escapes her as he steadies her on her feet once again. Her eyes fall to where his palm connects with her skin. His energy electrifying hers, jolting her senses awake as if they’ve been nullified this whole time, and he’s finally igniting them. Kora’s pulse skitters.
Turquoise eyes look right into her own as his chiselled face assesses her. Kora wonders if he can feel the same tingles as he holds onto her. If his energy is as captivated in hers .
“Sorry.” Kora breathes out before looking back to see Charles staring at them a few feet away. Irritation flares in his expression. His eyes dart between her and Jordan, before his hands dig angrily into his waistcoat and Charles storms off.
“No need to apologise. Are you all right?” Jordan’s voice is smooth and delicate, like honey, as he questions her.
Turning back, his face is still, waiting for her to answer him.
Swallowing, Kora nods to him, “Yes. I am, thank you.”
“Good.” Jordan says as a smile blooms on his features. It’s a smile that settles her, one of the nicest she’s ever seen.
She wonders now if he overheard their argument or saw her dancing with Charles. She doesn’t want him thinking they’re courting.
He adds quietly, “It was lovely meeting you, Miss…”
“Hamilton.” Kora finishes off for him.
Jordan’s dimples deepen and she can’t stop staring at him. “Miss Hamilton.” He repeats lowly. His hand falls away from her arm, the tingling sensation weakening, but she continues to feel butterflies swarming her insides.
“As it was you, Master Carter.”
He shakes his head at her as he gives a breathy chuckle, “Please call me Jordan.” And he walks off, following his parents around the room.
* ? * ? *
Clarence follows his uncle down the hallway. He has been in the Bladesmith manor enough times to know his way around. Creeping past the library, he peeps his head out from behind the door frame, trying to get a closer look at him .
Will continues on his way towards the entrance doors. Glancing back over his shoulder somewhat nervously, which Clarence finds rather odd. He gives the hall a once over before turning back.
Everyone else is still at the soiree, the sound of music and chatter gently filling the hallway.
Clarence steps out from the open door, his hazel eyes watching his uncle as he sneaks another few steps closer.
Something about his uncle feels amiss. Clarence can’t quite place what the feeling is, but he can sense that something is different about Will from the last time he was in London after an assignment. Kora might not see it, but Clarence can.
Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Will makes his way outside of the manor.
Clarence follows him, keeping a few strides back to keep Will from thinking he’s being shadowed.
Turning onto Endell Street, his gaze falls onto a group of Mortals huddled around a warm grate from the bakery. Steamy air sifts through the metal vent, heating their cold extremities. Clarence feels bad for them for a fleeting moment. Powerless and ordinary, with no real purpose in the world and being constantly protected by the Marked kinds.
Clarence continues to follow closely behind his uncle for a while, ducking into door frames or behind milk crates whenever Will peers back to check he’s not being followed.
From Soho into Farringdon, Clarence keeps on his tail until Will reaches a rundown looking townhouse. He hides behind a wooden cart left in the street filled with pots of plants, watching his uncle knocking on the door and waiting for the owner.
After a few more knocks, the door swings open and light illuminates Will’s face. Disappearing inside, the heavy door slams shut behind him, taking the light with it and leaving the street empty and quiet .
An uneasy feeling grows in the bottom of Clarence’s stomach. He knew something was off about him. Who could Will be visiting at this hour? And in this part of London? Whoever it is clearly isn’t a Seraph.
Glancing around, Clarence realises he isn’t going to be able to hear any part of Will’s conversation with the mysterious owner.
He’s made it this far, though. Clarence needs to know what’s happening inside of that townhouse. He needs to know who is so important that Will has to visit them at this hour, while he’s meant to be with them at the soiree.
Grumbling to himself and kicking a rusted mixed bean can in frustration, Clarence makes his way back to the soiree to collect his sister.
* ? * ? *
The figure watches as she strides home in the middle of the night, her long pastel orange dress dragging lightly against the dusty street. The gravel crackling under her slippers with every step. Long, golden hair swept up into a tangled knot behind her. Clara Lockewood, the young girl from the wealthy Lockewood family, makes her way home alone.
She strolls gracefully down the road as she hums quietly to a tune stuck in her head. Everyone knows it’s dangerous to walk alone at night, but she didn’t realise how late got when the soiree ended, and her family had already left the Bladesmith manor to return home without her.
The soiree was eventful, with various suitors showing their interest in her.
Dull grey eyes lazily gaze ahead as she wanders down Orchard Street, close to Portman Square.
The creatures’ onyx eyes watch as she passes by, her boots catching on some stones. Heading towards the square, she stops suddenly, hearing an unfamiliar noise sounding from behind her. Turning around swiftly, her whole body rotates towards the sound. Clara squints and after a few moments, shrugs, and continues walking, humming to herself.
The figure lets out a laugh, and the sound runs through to her bones, sending chills along her freckled skin. Pivoting again, she glimpses her pursuer. The dark figure waiting on the other side of the square, tall buildings surrounding them casting short shadows on the ground. The moon glowing high in the sky, letting off enough light for her to see the figure coming towards her.
Turning on her heel, Clara tries running, her feet stumbling under her with every step. Tears stream down her cheeks without her realising as she runs across the open space, but she knows it’s useless.
The figure catches her, knocking her to the ground. Head colliding with the cold gravel, Clara feels tears stinging her eyes as her mind throbs.
She screams loudly, the noise reverberating through the street. Her hands try to fight her off, but she has no weapons on her. Her strength isn’t enough to defeat her attacker on her own. Clara can just make out the smirk crawling onto the darkened face, glaring down at her, like they both know her time is up. A grin almost sickening, twisting her stomach into knots like croissants.
“You know, little Seraphim, that running only makes me angrier.” The raspy voice is thick with amusement and hatred. A black hood covering everything apart from a menacing smile.
“Get off me!” Clara yells in its face.
A hand presses down onto Clara’s chest and knocks the breath out of her. “I have been waiting all night. You’re his first victim.”
Clara feels something sharp jab into her side. Her ribs explode into a burning sensation. The feeling of scorching flames flooding her blood and muscles. Body screaming for her to fight back, but she can’t.
The creature’s blackened eyes just glare down at her, smiling with a dark, disturbed slyness. She can still feel the sharpness digging into her ribs, the poison spreading through her veins like flames engulfing parchment.
Clara’s eyes slowly blink to a stop. The light blue of her irises diminishing into a dull grey shade.
“That’s a good girl.” It purrs slowly.
The figure listens silently to her heart beats stopping. The final breath leaving her lips and mingling into the frosty night air.
Grinning, it releases the knife from Clara’s side and positions the blade against her exposed skin, cutting away the gown’s material and beginning to carve deep into her flesh. Scarlet blood leisurely releases from the incisions.
It continues carving until her body is entirely covered in half circles etched deeply into her skin. Blood covers her pale body as Clara lies there lifelessly on the icy ground.