Chapter 5 Brazen Homage
Brazen Homage
Harlot
It’s been a strange yet calming sensation, no longer being obsessively occupied with my twin brother, to be free of the vile thoughts and have my own mind again.
At times, it almost feels like a small part of me is missing—a part that was never meant to be there.
Even my dreams are free of his face, no more bloodshed, and howling screams that make me smile.
All is replaced with serenity during sleep, and exhaustion makes way for feeling well-rested.
Emrys wants to go to the city to see how Fynn is doing.
He is anxious to know whether the removal of the curse on my end has affected my brother in any way.
He is worried, not for my brother’s well-being, but for mine.
His energy is restless and fretful; it is written all over his face.
There is an edginess in the air, like before a storm.
It is hard to believe the curse, or at least my part, has just vanished, and there are no consequences for us for defying it.
This is a sentient being, a true monster, that has destroyed lives for centuries without any intervention.
The loophole to end it was so simple that we only discovered it because of my mother’s stubbornness to settle my brother and me down in a dark creature-infested city, amid vampire territory.
It was her constant remedy to push us away from our kind, to keep us from finding our human counterparts, that ultimately led to Emrys and me bonding—by doing so, obliterating the curse on my end.
Despite my wariness toward the city and its citizens, especially my brother and his soulmate, I go along with Emrys, living up to our promise to each other never to separate ourselves again.
“You radiate, my love,” Emrys says dotingly.
I look up at him, my man, my monster, and smile.
It feels surprisingly good to be back in the city, this time with a clear vision instead of a clouded one, nightmarish thoughts no longer haunting me.
The change in my scent, the Aurum gone, doesn’t go unnoticed by our spectators, as many gawk at us, while some lick their lips in anticipation.
None dares to come near us, none of them foolish enough to challenge an Umbra.
The Aurum might have worn off and disappeared, but that doesn’t mean I am without protection or easy prey.
Emrys's scent is all over me; our bond is cemented, unbreakable—a first warning that I am off-limits. Each darkling that slithers along these streets is aware. It makes me, strangely, both desirable and terrifying to them at the same time. I can tell from their skittish behavior around us and their longing stares as we pass by. I can almost hear their thoughts and whispers; if my blood is good enough for a powerful being like the Umbra, then how divine will my life essence be? Emrys’s hold on me is firm, his shadows coiling around us dangerously—a deathly message to anyone brazen enough to come after me, his mate.
We pause at a decomposing corpse; the skin is scorched and flaking—a witch.
I glance up at Emrys, who glares at the dead body before us as well.
He scans the area, but creatures scurry away from us, too scared to speak, until Emrys points at one.
The vampire jerks his head from left to right, checking to see if he can push someone else forward, clearly unwilling to talk to us.
Emrys has never been patient with the darklings, and with a deep sigh, tendrils of dark shadow sprout from him and lash out at the vampire, who begins to writhe as the black smoke curls around him.
Within seconds, he’s close to us, still at a safe distance, and he cannot approach me.
“Please, my lord,” the vampire pleads. “Don’t force me to speak. Please…”
“What’s your name?” Emrys asks, ignoring the pleas.
“Augustus, my lord.”
“I am not your lord. Tell me what happened here,” Emrys demands from the vampire.
Instead of answering, his instincts kick in, and the vampire's eyes turn to me, his irises widening slightly as he takes me in.
“Your bride, she looks… healthy, my lo-Umbra. So… healthy, and… vulnerable,” Augustus says, his gaze solidly fixed on mine as he ogles me, a hint of drool at the corners of his mouth.
It happens so fast, I barely register it. Augustus cries out in despair, as I see both his arms breaking, sharp pieces of bone sticking through his skin, tearing the fabric of his jacket. Wet spots appear on his clothing as thick blood begins to saturate it.
“Never gaze at my mate with those lustful eyes again, or I’ll make sure your eyes are next, vampire,” Emrys hisses as his shadows hold the fractures they inflicted in place, making it impossible for the vampire to heal his wounds.
While the vampire’s body desperately tries to glue the broken pieces back together, the shadows cruelly constrict and force them to break repeatedly after each healing attempt without mercy.
“Now, speak!”
Emrys’s dark aura springs to life, his rage envelops us, and several night creatures and witches gasp in fear as they feel the edge of his volatile aura brushing against theirs.
Windows are shut with rapid speed, and residents pull their curtains taut, as if that will keep an Umbra out—a false sense of safety.
“It’s the bride’s brother…” Augustus says hesitantly, his voice trembling while he glances around as if worried that Fynn might overhear him.
Augustus leans in closer, as close as he can get to us, a grimace on his face as he withstands the pain, then lowers his voice. “The boy… he set the witch on fire because he was in a foul mood… We were told by him not to touch the body, to let her rot as a warning. No one has seen him since…”
“.Fucking.Everything,” Emrys growls. Each word is clipped.
“Fine, fine… The girl… The one that belongs to him… She changed too… Her scent… It’s like the boy’s, but less potent…”
Again, Augustus glances around in alarm.
“I… I know the girl… I was supposed to take her up North, to the breeding farms, but she escaped… It was actually your woods that protected her… sir.”
The final sentence carries a slight accusatory tone, which Emrys immediately notices.
“Do you dare to blame me for your failure? Because you, a vampire, let a human of all species escape?” he snarls at Augustus with narrow eyes. The vampire shrinks back in fear.
“No, no, of course not, my lord… Umbra…” Augustus replies.
“So, the girl now benefits as well,” Emrys says, lost in thought.
“Yes… That’s correct, my… Umbra. It seems to be the case…”
The vampire doesn’t dare to look my way, nor does he make much sound, despite the agonizing pain he must be enduring.
I see his body battling the shadows, but he has no chance.
It’s a natural instinct—rapid healing; all vampires possess it.
This is why they often choose violence over a normal conversation.
It doesn’t matter if they end up wounded; their bodies knit themselves together in no time, and they’re ready for round two.
Only when an Umbra, or a werewolf, decides to strike does it become dangerous for a vampire.
A vampire cannot heal from a werewolf bite or rite.
And vampires cannot recover from damage inflicted by an Umbra unless an Umbra grants permission.
This illustrates the extent to which Emrys’s powers reach and explains why he is avoided and treated with such respect.
“Are they still at the inn down the road? The one where the death witch works?” Emrys asks.
Augustus nods. “Yes, that’s where they are holding themselves up still.”
“And the dhampir, what about him?”
Faas… Another threat to the citizens of Valorya, even though he is not a werewolf or an Umbra.
Still, dhampirs are perhaps more lethal to vampires and blood witches than the other two due to their mercurial nature.
Although born half-human, their powers are complex; inheriting all the advantages of vampires, such as speed and strength, dhampirs also have the ability to siphon the powers of those they kill.
This makes it impossible for an opponent to know their actual abilities.
Additionally, a were-creature bite is never lethal for them to begin with; their healing capacities are comparable to a vampire's, perhaps even faster, but somehow the venom doesn’t affect them.
Their instinct is to kill any vampire that crosses their path, and witches—those they kill to absorb their magic, each kill strengthening their defenses against witches.
“He lingers around, talks to the boy. The death witch hates it, hates the abomination as much as we all do. The dhampir threatened her some days ago, at least that’s being whispered about,” the vampire says softly, and I notice his eyes becoming watery.
It makes me wonder how much longer he can endure the pain.
I place my hand on Emrys's arm, suggesting that he might consider letting the vampire go. Emrys meets my gaze, his darkened eyes clear up the moment our eyes meet.
“You’re fortunate that my beloved’s heart is gentle.”
“Bless your mercy, milady,” the vampire cries out, but I don’t look at him.
I didn’t do this for the vampire; I did it for Emrys’s sanity.
The shadows toss the vampire across the town square with force, his pale skin turning bright red as it scrapes against the rough stone.
A yelp escapes the vampire’s throat. No, thank you, nothing.
The vampire should be relieved that this was all my monster did, removing him.
It’s an act of mercy, the alternative being ripping the vampire’s head off.
The one who had the nerve to stare at me so blatantly, insinuating I am now without protection.
The words the creature had spoken linger.
Healthy. Vulnerable. I feel them claw their way into my mind, ready to settle in, messing with my head.
“What will we do, my love?” I ask Emrys.