Blood Offering
3 2
Charles reaches the docks early in the morning, the wooden crate safely in his arms.
The market is still rather quiet. Some merchants are busy setting up their stalls while others are catching another wink of sleep before the sun rises higher, and the market floods with Marked ones. It’s a dreary morning yet again. Storm clouds are rolling in from the west, darkening the already dim atmosphere. Spires from the towering buildings disappear into the low grey cloud coverage.
A rhythmic crashing of water on the edge of the River Thames sounds gentle and calming to Charles. He walks through the market walkway, dodging a few vendors while heading straight for Emmett’s familiar stall.
He nods to some merchants he’s dealt with in the past, a few men tipping their hats to him in respect.
Charles comes to the docks on a weekly basis, often to hear the news about the other supernatural kinds to report back to his father. Anything from Spellcasters using forbidden dark magic to Shifter packs battling for a new alpha.
Charles chose to dress in his regular, Mortal clothing today, needing nothing more than to blend in with the rest of the patrons. A brown fitted shirt under suspenders holding up his dark trousers. It’s what most creatures wear to the docks. He’d stand out too much in his fighting leathers .
The crate of pints is somewhat heavy, splintering his skin every time it threatens to fall from his grasp.
Charles sees the familiar green tent of Emmett Talslot, the metal barrel out the front lit with flames that emit purple smoke into the air. Emmett stands beside it, hovering his hands out over the fire. As Charles nears, he sees that Emmett is, in fact, fuelling the fire with flames he can summon through his energy.
“So that is what you actually use your powers for? Warming your extremities.” Charles jokes as he comes to a stop beside the Elemental.
Emmett lets out a booming chuckle, “Good to see you again Charles, and right on time again, as usual.” Clasping his hands together in happiness.
“We have fifteen pints for you this time.”
Emmett’s blackened eyes widen, and his bright red brows rise on his forehead in delightful surprise. “More than last time, you are ambitious, aren’t you? Step into my stall.”
Charles leads the way inside the canvas tent, dropping the wooden crate on the ground with a thud. The tent is just as dirty inside as it is on the outside. Crates upon crates of who knows what are stacked up in random piles. Rotting plants and fruit are dispersed throughout, giving off a foul odour, and a single floating candle hovers at the top, illuminating the cramped space.
“Emmett, I think you need a housekeeper in here.”
The man chuckles at Charles again, slapping him on the back with so much force Charles nearly flies forward onto his face. “You make me laugh, Bladesmith.”
Emmett stalks over to the table set up on the other side, his head knocking into the floating light. He’s a stocky man of great height, towering over everyone he comes across. That’s one of the reasons why people are so afraid of him. That, and the fact that he has absolutely no remorse when people double cross him, even in the slightest .
“Where did you want the crate?” Charles asks, kicking it with the tip of his leather boot.
Emmett thinks for a second, stroking his vivid red beard the colour of chilies. It’s an unnatural red, but it makes sense for him due to his fire summoning abilities. “Leave it there. I will be sending it out later this morning.” He grunts.
Charles leaves it, waiting for Emmett to focus back on him.
He seems to be scrounging around underneath the table where he has mounds of old tomes, broken machinery and jars that look to be filled with all sorts of dead insects.
He turns around, almost startled by the fact that Charles is still waiting. “What is it, boy?”
Charles grimaces at the word boy . “Aren’t you forgetting my enchantment?”
Emmett blanches before strolling over and placing his hands on Charles’ shoulders. This is the plan. The enchantment increases his abilities, making him the most skilled out of every Seraphim his age. A heating sensation runs through him, the hairs on his skin lift and tingle as Emmett repeats the charm in a different language under his breath. The feeling lasts a full minute before the waves slow, and Charles forces his eyes open. He didn’t even realise they had closed. He should be used to the feeling by now.
“Done.” Emmett chimes, releasing his hands and returning to the pile of stuff he was sifting through.
Charles continues watching him, his body hot and bothered as the enchantment works its magic underneath his flesh.
Emmett looks over to see Charles still waiting for him. “Anything else you need?”
“I wish to ask you something.”
Emmett’s eyes narrow on his. “Well, what is it? I don’t have time to dilly dally today.”
“I want to know how to make someone fall in love with me. ”
His words cause Emmett to stiffen. “Why would you want that? Do you have no luck with ladies?”
Charles’ teeth grind loudly, “I didn’t ask for you to question me. I just want to know if you have a spell or something I can use?”
“It’s not like spelling someone to sleep. It requires a lot of effort, and most times it doesn’t work properly. I would suggest you wait until you find someone. If you mess too much with magic, then it will begin to mess with you.”
“But I need a wife.”
“And no woman is offering?” Emmett snorts an obnoxiously loud laugh. “Do you have trouble speaking with them? Offering your intentions?”
“No!” Charles cries out angrily.
Emmett scratches his head. “Then I don’t understand why you would need one. Do you have your eye on someone who is courting another man?”
“No. You know what? Forget it.”
Emmett grins proudly at him. “Very well, off you go then. I have a stall to set up. Your next shipment of pints will be needed in two weeks.”
Charles, who’s already walking towards the tent opening, spins around on one foot. “Wait, wait, wait. Two weeks? It’s usually every four.”
“What can I say, Seraphim blood is highly sellable now. The Marked ones are wanting it now more than ever.”
“But two weeks is not enough time for me to collect that many pints.” Charles argues with him.
Emmett steps closer, his gigantic body exceeding Charles’s. “Two weeks is an ample amount of time. If you fail to bring me ten more by then, you will find yourself the talk of the town when I expose the illegal business you and your father are a part of. So, I suggest you follow my orders and bring me the pints before I tear your limbs off, one by one, and take all of your blood to sell. Do you understand?” his voice getting lower and more aggressive with each word.
Charles swallows loudly. “Ye-yes.”
“Splendid. I don’t like to raise my voice, but sometimes it’s necessary to get the message across.”
Tapping the side of Charles’ cheek with his palm mockingly, Emmett picks up the crate of pints and walks to the other side of the tent.
“See you in two weeks!” he yells before disappearing out the other end.
* ? * ? *
Kora groans herself awake. She managed to finally get some sleep after pacing around her room for a few hours until the fire burnt out and the streets of London grew quieter outside her window.
This bed is incredibly comfortable. The expensive dark silky sheets and thick blankets weighing her down are made from various materials. Fluffy, soft, knitted, and corded. At least ten pillows line the back of the bed. They’re all delicate and cloud-like.
Rolling onto her back, she wipes the sleep from corners of her eyes, before relieving herself and washing up. Warm water half fills the tub, and she settles in, allowing her muscles to relax and recover. Her eyes close as she takes a moment to ground herself.
Her mother, Tessa, might have been Uriel’s child.
The Blade of Uriel is now in her possession.
Colton may be out there trying to become another Dark Angel.
Her uncle Will might be mixed up in all of this. Or is he a descendant of Uriel as well?
Kora groans again, shoving her head under water in the hopes that dunking herself will push the overflowing thoughts out of her mind .
It doesn’t.
Lifting herself back up to inhale, she pushes her drenched hair out of her eyes and wrings water from the tips.
Stepping out, she finds a clean light grey dress decorated with sewn black birds and vines lying on the edge of the now made bed. She slips it on. It’s the tiniest bit too big, considering Valarie is a few inches taller than her, but she doesn’t complain. It’s much softer than her regular day dresses back at her manor.
Combing through her wet hair, Kora goes downstairs in search of some breakfast. She wasn’t expecting the Carter’s to be sitting around the dining room whispering quietly. They all freeze to look up at her when she appears in the doorway.
Kora can feel herself folding inward from the embarrassment of how she reacted last night. Her outburst and tears. She hadn’t meant to act like that, but it all became so overwhelming. She swallows, waiting for one of them to mention her behaviour when Josephine rises from her chair with a gentle smile, “Kora, I do hope you slept well. Come and join us while it’s still warm.”
More delicious fresh food covers the table. Taking some pastries, eggs, and fruit, Kora quietly nibbles on each piece as the family discusses other matters. Kora’s not really listening to them. All she can think about is Uriel and her mother and Colton and the blade… It’s all too consuming.
“How did you sleep?” Jordan asks beside her as his parents talk amongst themselves about an event they’re invited to.
She looks up at him through her damp lashes that cling together. He does look slightly worried, but not as much as last night. Her hair tingles as she thinks about him kissing her head like the protective man he is.
“I got some at least.” She responds honestly. There’s no doubt she has blueness hanging under her eyes, but she’s too tired to care.
Jordan nods and gives her a faint smile. “Are you going to try contacting Uriel? ”
“What are you two gossiping about over there?” Valarie cuts in from the other side of the table.
They both look over to see everyone watching them.
Kora swallows loudly, “I think I need to speak with Uriel for some more answers.”
All four pairs of eyes stare at her.
Josephine is the first to speak up. “I think that is a brilliant idea then. It might put your mind at ease.”
“How do you go about contacting an Archangel, though?” Valarie asks on Kora’s behalf.
Tobias’ mouth tightens as he looks to Josephine, who gives a small shrug. “We have never tried that before. I don’t think anyone has.”
Jordan’s fork hits his porcelain plate, causing Kora to flinch as he stands beside her. “It might be in that book you gave me, father.”
“Oh, yes. Go retrieve it, Jordan.” Tobias’ face lights up at the suggestion.
He dashes out of the room, and they all sit in silence, waiting for Jordan to return. Kora takes a handful of blueberries, the sweetness filling her mouth pleasantly.
Jordan returns with a large, leather-bound book and places it on the table. Josephine helps moves some of the plates around to create enough space. Flicking through and skimming each page, Jordan tries to find something mentioning the summoning of Archangels.
“Where did you find this book?” Kora asks curiously while Jordan continues to scour the pages eagerly.
Tobias answers for him, “It has been passed down in my family to each man once he turns eighteen. I believe my grandfather found it in a library and kept it.”
Kora frowns at him. “I don’t think you’re allowed to just take a book from a library. ”
He gives her a crooked smile, “I don’t think back then they really thought about it. But I’m grateful either way because this might help you.”
Jordan slams his hand down before reading the passage out loud. “To reach an Archangel, one must be offering a part of themselves and call upon the Archangel repeating the words ‘I call upon thee. Come before me so that I may speak with you in your presence’. The offering should be something personal. The most effective is blood.” And he stops reading, looking sideways to Kora.
“Blood.” She repeats with raised eyebrows.
He closes the book, turning to her once again. “I think if you bring the blade with you and offer some blood, then he will appear.”
“Can it be anywhere?”
Jordan shakes his head. “Somewhere holy, like a church.”
Kora nods and breathes out, “I’m glad your great grandfather was a thief now.”