Chapter 9 #3
After feeding on me last night, his eyes returned to their usual dark gray color this morning. It’s another way for us to strengthen our bond, me allowing him to drink my blood, and I taking some of his. Strangely, the taste is divine in a way I never experienced before; it is a flavor I savor.
My mother is relieved to see me, yet strangely reluctant to question me about my whereabouts. Possibly afraid I'll disappear like I did before.
“Where do all these people come from?” I ask my mother. “It’s like a herd of sheep walking straight into the wolf's den. It’s so strange. It’s like new ones die each passing day.”
Mother sags on the bed, her shoulders slumping. Tears fall silently on her hands.
“It’s my fault. It’s because I brought both of you here. People are drawn to you two; subconsciously, they are led here. For these predators, there is no easier prey. The prey is literally sitting in the open, unable to fight back.”
Mother is crying loudly now, and I’m unsure whether this is the right time to address her concerns or ask her to elaborate on her statement.
The thought of bluntly asking for the books crosses my mind, but her tears could be a trap—a ruse to gauge how much I truly know.
I need to read more than the few pages I laid eyes on; I want to understand my heritage, and the idea that I might never know if Fynn wins this race is one of distress.
I have a feeling that those books will reveal the scratched-out name—the one who started this all, the one responsible for this longing hunger for despair and death.
“Where’s Fynn?” I ask instead.
“Out with that girl, that traveling party that arrived, they are some sort of fair,” she says. “Harlot, we need to put that stray down. She and Fynn, it’s not healthy. This is not how it’s supposed to happen. I want her gone.”
“You want her dead?” I frown at my mother.
“No, no, of course not, I just… she needs to leave Valorya and never come back. Never set foot here again. Go back to that forest of hers.”
My mother’s words sink in, and I wonder if Fynn would commit suicide if Jodelle were to die or be killed.
I suppress a smile at the thought of his suffering.
I suppose he will be able to live with the pain of a severed soulmate.
I don’t know if her death would translate to his as well.
My thoughts travel deeper into the darkness, and I’m unable to stop them.
Would it hurt worse if I were the one to kill her?
If I rip out his heart? Mother wants her gone; perhaps this way, I can kill two birds with one stone.
Would fate grant me such an opportunity?
I mull over what it’d mean if I am able to get the upper hand in this silent battle he and I are having.
The magic will be mine, and Fynn will find a tragic death from heartbreak, or at least, I hope.
To kill her, I will need to get close to her and befriend her.
Earning her trust and her affection can be another key to my own survival in this wicked game.
“I’ll see what I can do, Mother. I will check out that fair you mentioned; find them.”
Mother smiles at me as she thanks me, her cheeks still wet with tears, her frustration with the whole situation palpable.
If Mother knew her daughter had bonded on a deeper level with an Umbra—a creature darker than the night—her heart would give out.
How would that affect the magic? I want to cleave Fynn’s connection with his damn soulmate.
I want to see his face twist in agony as it happens, hear his screams as he reaches for Jodelle while she’s no longer in reach, dead.
As I leave the room, a smile creeps on my face, and I feel Emrys’s approving hum through my body. He might not be the good guy, but I never said I was a good girl, either.
Emrys joins me, and we walk toward a group surrounding the fair’s attractions.
He’s become even more protective and possessive since it dawned on us that the magic is weakening, most likely because my brother is ahead of me, having already bonded with the mate the curse has chosen.
Having him by my side guarantees no one will dare to come near me, despite the hungry eyes, whiffs, and instant terror as they recognize it, the other thing coating my scent besides the Aurum—an Umbra.
His species is a rare sighting in this world, let alone spotting one out in the open.
An Umbra that walks among them, not just some fable or fairytale, but an actual one, alive, breathing, ready to rip out hearts with his bare hands if you look at me, or him, in a way that does not please him.
Emrys is no longer the Umbra that resides in his fortress, and the vampires and witches whisper about him.
For some, he is a long-forgotten species, while others keep his reign alive by claiming to have spotted him.
Us being here confirms his tale is not one of made-up stories. As Emrys traverses their streets openly, his mere presence commands respect, whether the darklings want to give him that or not.
Even with all the rotting corpses scattered throughout the city, decay does not suffocate the air around us.
The witches make sure of that, working their blood magic.
With Fynn securing his soulmate, the demographics of those drawn to the city shift: more young men and fewer women, with or without children.
The curse lures them to Valorya, and the curse is still working to bring me my soulmate as well.
Unbeknownst to them, it leads them straight into an awaiting death trap, a snare in its most terrifying form.
I notice how the guilt is eating Mother from the inside out, the blood of all these people on her hands, our hands.
Strangely, I feel an absence of guilt; none of this finds its origin in me because of my acts.
Empathy does not find its way to my heart as I glance at the corpses we pass by.
Yet my heart is whole as I look at the man beside me, as if I am composed of both good and evil, the good only present selfishly when it concerns the love I have for this man.
The dynamics of the magic must have shifted when Fynn fulfilled his part of the curse.
It appears the magic is more potent in the city now that I am closer to my family; it is as if the curse finds its energy from all three of us, despite what Mother has claimed before.
My emotions are more intense as well; the idea of finding Fynn and Jodelle excites me, but not for the right reasons.
I want to break them, break their bodies, slowly, bone by bone.
I want to set a fire and burn their faces off, melting the skin till it’s nothing more than a puddle of scorched flesh.
I want to stab their arteries and cut out their organs, hold their beating hearts before I crush them.
I want them to watch each other as I take turns hurting them, while I slaughter them simultaneously.
I imagine forcing them to eat each other and dying with their lovers' livers in their stomachs. A menacing grin spreads across my face.
I know Emrys can hear and see the gruesome, cruel images in my head.
I also know that, although I sometimes fear the darkness that resides inside me, he has no fear of me or my mind; he embraces me whole.
For that, I am grateful, as it is his acceptance of my thorns that allows me to work on accepting them, too.
It slowly erases the question that haunts me: am I a victim being played, or a monster doing the playing?
He welcomes the monster inside me that revels in all of it: the taunting, the plotting, the impulse to raise carnage.
A kinship intertwined with shadows and storms, a tempest so dark it will bring tremors to those around us.
He is my salvation, and I am his redemption.
Emrys squeezes my hand, pulling me close to him as we near the city walls.
The fair is set up a few meters away, outside the city.
The imagery resolves as we near the fair, with some attractions still under construction by the humans, eyed curiously by both vampires and witches.
As we make our way through the group of creatures, they part for us, clearing the way.
None of them is brave or lunatic enough to provoke Emrys’s wrath.
I see Jodelle’s sun-kissed blonde hair, my brother holding her protectively as he watches the darklings surrounding them. I shout at them, calling their names loudly for everyone to hear.
Some of the humans in the fair also look up, and Jodelle turns around. Fynn ignores me and keeps his face forward, his fingers pressing into Jodelle’s shoulders, keeping her with him.
“I had no idea you were coming as well! If we had known, we would have waited for you,” Jodelle starts immediately, her kindness catching me off guard.
This might be easier than I anticipated.
I compose myself as Emrys splays his large hand on my lower back, comforting me.
“It’s okay,” I hesitate, unsure how to introduce Emrys, “we wanted to go for a stroll first.”
Jodelle looks at Emrys, a flicker of lust in her eyes disappears just as soon as it comes.
I scoff. She’s living proof that the curse has decided her fate for her against her will, her conscience fighting itself to the surface, quickly to be subdued.
The fact that it chose to appear at the sight of Emrys feeds my lack of empathy for her; pity is nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, a violent jealousy courses through me, a white-hot rage boiling inside the pit of my stomach.
How dare she even think about him? He’s mine.