Chapter 2 Cunning Falsity #2
Getting rid of Harlot would be easy if it weren't for that disgusting bloodsucker of hers.
The thought of that bitch makes me clench my fists; how did she manage to get her hands on a creature like that?
And how am I supposed to get to Harlot with that leech always by her side? It makes killing her nearly impossible.
A commotion next to me causes me to turn my head, irritation surging through me. I see Caria quickly roll away from me, get on her feet, and create some distance.
“Your magic, Fynn, damnit. Get your head back to the present; I can feel the heat radiating off you, and I do not intend to get hurt by you again,” she says sternly.
I click my tongue in annoyance at her accusing tone. I need to learn how to keep this under control. My emotions cannot be the cause of my magic going out of control, wielding itself, and hurting those I care for in the process.
“I was thinking about my sister and how it seems impossible to get close to her to kill her. It’s frustrating, especially since it’s all I can think about lately. Her death. It’s getting worse,” I say earnestly.
Caria tilts her head in response.
“There’s no way for any of us to get rid of the Umbra; I do not think even your magic can,” she says pensively.
“I know; I remember how effortlessly he broke my arm, not even flinching as he passed through the barrier of magic. Not a tiny wound on his skin, nothing.”
“Your sister is his mate, you have to understand that. Not a single creature will stand in his way if you do manage to get to her. He’s already a violent creature at heart, but it is his devotion to her that makes him truly dangerous, Fynn.
He’ll kill everyone you love if you even try to hurt her…
” she says, her last words barely a whisper.
“I’m not going to get you killed, I promise. I’ll do my best to stay away from my dumb sister; that monstrous creature will not touch a hair on your head.”
I kiss her forehead, and she smiles at me, accepting my reassurance.
I hate my own guts. Here I am again, making promises to Caria that conflict with my own interests—promises I'm not entirely sure I can live up to, or want to keep. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think she is the one who hexed me, making me do her bidding instead of some curse.
As we lay there in the meadow, enveloped in the soft scent of the flowers, it slowly dawns on me that my sister Harlot and I share some curse.
The words finally nestling themselves into my mind.
A curse that apparently forces us to end each other’s lives: one sole victor.
I want her dead, and she wants me out of the way, which is entirely accurate.
It explains so much about the past few years, how our interactions dwindled to the bare minimum, with irritation and frustration growing, the glares, and the festering thoughts. It all makes sense now.
Over the last few weeks, my thoughts have grown louder and more persistent, making it increasingly difficult to suppress them.
There’s no denying that. They have turned darker too, shifting from mere wants to something more—desires, a deep-rooted need.
Yet, she is preoccupied with that demon of hers, who is always hovering near her, my corpse-kissing sister; how could she not find that suffocating?
At some point, I would rip Jodelle’s head off. I’d watch her blood spray like a makeshift fountain.
I blink. No, I wouldn’t. I would never do that to Jodelle.
Fuck. And then the burning I caused just now on Caria.
I know it is the damn Aurum; it’s the same thing that happened to that vampire who tried to jump me while I was asleep back in Sadelaer.
I’ll never forget what it looked like—the bubbling of her skin as it scorched away.
Caria’s skin was similar. I just don’t understand how I lost control over it; Caria is the last person I’d ever want to hurt on this forsaken planet.
However, I have to admit that her sweet cries sounded like a melancholy melody to my ears, and it definitely stirred something inside me.
I shake my head instinctively, as if that will tear away the strange thoughts that reveal themselves in my head.
A heaviness begins to settle on my body, my limbs, my mind.
The sensation is familiar, as if it’s warming itself up before it unleashes itself.
“I need to go,” I say suddenly as I get up.
Caria lifts herself on her arms and tilts her head at my sudden departure.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I interrupt her.
I need to leave; I sense it approaching, the pain, like a thunderstorm nearing the shore.
The clouds and rain serve as a warning for what’s to come.
I can feel the first drops of rain as stings, like pin pricks, slithering into my flesh.
I have to get away from Caria before I unintentionally hurt her again.
If the pain begins to thrash inside of me, I will not be able to control the magic.
“I’m sorry, we’ll meet soon, I promise. I need to explore more of you, of us,” I say hastily with a grimace as a wave of pain starts to strike me repeatedly.
I leave a confused Caria behind as I run away, the porcelain skin of her cheeks flushed from our interaction, and I hate to abandon her like this, as if I am using her.
Why would I care if I used her? A slut like her has only one purpose. A filthy witch whore. She deserves to die in misery.
No. Stop it! I pinch the bridge of my nose as thoughts whirl in my mind.
I am fucking in love with her; I don’t want to hurt her; I want to please her.
Pain crashes through me immediately, the admission, the final straw.
I claw at the sides of my head as I continue to stumble forward, my legs becoming unsteady, unable to run anymore.
I got ahead of myself, thinking I'd found a loophole, when I accepted the truth that I want both Caria and Jodelle. I still don’t understand how our earlier interaction didn’t knock me to the ground, dying from pain as if there was some delay in the ether.
“Fuck,” I mutter, “there you are. You’re a little late with the punishment, aren’t you? I already got my little pleasure, you stupid… whatever the fuck you are.”
No one is here to hear me as I walk with trembling legs along the stone path that leads back to the city, and if they were, I’m sure they’d think I’m drunk on madness.
As I walk, I receive strike after strike, as if whatever this is wants to ensure I do not forget that Caria is off the table. But I sure would love to see her pussy spread for me on the table and satiate my hunger for her; I grin to myself.
“Damnit,” I bellow, as a sting courses through me, so powerful it almost makes me pass out. My eyes water from the impact.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Jodelle is the one. I love Jodelle; all hail Jodelle,” I say mockingly.
Instantly, I’m hit again like a crack from a leather whip; whatever is doing this takes great offense at my taunting.
I grumble and groan in response as I continue to stagger my way home, doing my best to block out any graphic images from my mind.
For some reason, my stomach fills with butterflies for Caria and a few lonely ones for Jodelle.
What if that vixen did cast a spell on me? She wouldn’t, would she?
She's a blood witch, after all. Dark creatures can’t be trusted. She deserves to die.
No. I shake my head in resolve. She wouldn’t be sucking my cock like that if she had.
There is no need for her to do that. Unless it strengthens the spell?
No, no, no. She wants me like I want her, need her.
Another surge crashes through me like striking thunder, and I black out.
I feel the gravel of the path cutting into my skin as I hit the ground.
Thick, warm fluid coats my head; it's the last thing I feel.
A copper tang in the air is the last thing I smell, the scent of my own blood.
I don’t hear the heavy footsteps that creak on the gravel as they near me. Nor do I see who crouches down and picks me up.
“Hey there, handsome; how are you feeling?”
My gaze flickers. My eyes burn from the dryness, my head spins, and my vision is blurry.
I tilt my head toward the voice, gradually regaining my sight, and a pair of unnatural, bright green eyes stare back at me.
I look at the man—at least, I think that’s what he is.
As my eyes settle, I recognize who sits across from me. No, he’s not a man.
“You’re that dhampir, the one I saw at the city walls!” I say with revulsion.
“Ah, so you remember me as well. That saves us both time. My name is Faas, but I already told you that before.”
The dhampir offers me his hand. I contemplate whether to shake it, burn him, or escape. I look around, ignoring his hand, and notice I’m not bound. The dhampir eyes me curiously and then withdraws his hand with a shrug. Part of me worries I may have offended him by neglecting to shake his hand.
“You’re free to leave if that is what you’re wondering about, human. I found you along the road, fainted, and instead of letting you rot in the burning sun, I figured I’d bring you here, fix you up, and let you rest.”
He smirks, revealing his sharp canines. Nonchalantly, he points at the door.
“It’s not locked, nor are you shackled. You can leave if that’s what you want,” he says dismissively.
“Why wouldn’t you let me rot? Most creatures would,” I ask warily.
“Of course, because they’re all cowards to their core,” he scoffs. “They all deserve to die. The only creature I respect is that Umbra, but the rest of them are all pests that need to be eliminated,” the dhampir continues.
I stare at him in disbelief as his words register.
“Why do you want them all dead?” I ask, intrigued.
“Because they are all abominations and should never be allowed to roam this earth freely. The era of Light shouldn’t have ended,” he shrugs.