Chapter 101: 101
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The embittered sounds of my misgivings echo around the clearing as I stare down the white haired vampire with a distinctly obvious distaste.
Foul creature, I think narrowly to myself, partially out of the daring inquiry to test whether my necklace does have any effect on blocking his mind powers, and equally out of a loathing spite for the Prince's untimely and somewhat uncanny appearances. Yet the white haired vampire gives no indication of hearing my inward remarks, sauntering up against a tree laxly as though I hadn't just hurled insults at him from my mind. Perfect.
Some crazy instinct in me manages to dare a grin.
Part of me thinks it would be somewhat satisfying to him the same treatment I gave poor Andrais- skewer him through the heart and set him ablaze, if only to see that smug grin wiped of his face. But then I remind myself that (rather unfortunately,) I would likely end up with half a kingdom after my blood- if they weren't after it already, and that as satisfying as that plan might sound, I still have a much greater one to put into action.
So instead, I flick Azrael the middle finger and heave my bloody silver sword up to my hip with a menacing semblance.
"Fuck off," I repeat a little bolder now, to which Ithuriel snarls his agreement. "I can handle these bastards by myself,"
Azrael, whose slender form is leant casually against a spruce tree, head tipped, eyes narrowed in the faint amusement that comes with the spectacle before him, clucks his tongue in a humorous disapproval.
"Language, Serena," he says, shifting his weight into a standing position as he ambles over towards us casually, surveying the two ladies on the ground as if I weren't just about to kill them. I throw him another middle finger.
"I don't need being told what to do by a vampire who thought it would be funny to pose as me," I snarl, and spit at the ground for good measure, causing the two ladies to recoil in horror. Azrael smiles coyly.
"Ah, so you noticed that. Well I am glad someone has got a bit of perception round here, unlike my brother. Though I suppose I must thank you for telling him about my powers, too, it has certainly made things infinitely more interesting," he smirks, gazing down upon the two women who flail pitifully on the ground, carefully nudging one of them with his boot, just to see if they will respond. But the action causes Ithuriel to lose hold of them momentarily, distracted by the invasive presence who lurks like a lone shark in shallow waters, and he shies away momentarily.
But a moment is all they need. In an instant they throw themselves on Azrael, howling their laments.
"Azrael, oh Azrael," the blonde haired one cries, wrapping her arms around him in a strange softness that certainly wasn't there before, as though the presence of the Prince has suddenly turned her into something more than a monster lusting for blood. Tears sparkle on her cheeks, glistening under the light of the half dead fires. Mournfully, the two women wail like siren's as I advance, lifting my sword that glints with the stains of fresh blood and the promise of death. They press themselves up further against Azrael.
"She is going to kill us Azrael, kill us. You must tell Soren, you must have her removed!"
"Removed!" Echoes the other vampire, who grovels before his feet, begging out her mercy. I scoff inwardly.
The only ones needing removal are these two wretches.
Ithuriel, who steadies himself on his feet a few paces away, shaking out his sparkling white furs, barks his approval:
I second that, my Queen, take them out.
Firmly, I turn my attention back to the scene before me, then promptly grimace in vile disgust.
Azrael swoons over the blonde haired lady, taking her delicate face in his hands, an expression of concern pulling over his features as he caresses the side of her face lovingly. Helpless and wanting, she leans herself into his pale palm, whimpering continuously.
Not even a vampire could resist the charms of such a despicable Prince. Disgusting.
"Oh my sweet little Rose," he coos to her, cupping her face with both his hands now, his long pale fingers snaking themselves over her skin. Yet there is a newfound menace in the silky way that he moves, a coiling slyness, his eyes narrowing like a snake in front of its prey, readying itself to strike. Her eyes grow impossibly large.
My advance falters slightly. This is a look I have seen before, and it is by no means a good one. Azrael's frosty voice rings out into the darkness, cutting through the silent suspense like sheets of ice.
"I am afraid Prince Soren isn't very happy with you. In fact," he adds, eyes narrowing slightly to form the ominous semblance of a snake to a mouse, "I think he wants you dead."
And then with a mechanical twist of his hands, he snaps her neck.
"No!" wails the other girl on the floor, turning to me, her eyes burning like twin hell fires. I back up a little as she rises up from the ground like a marionette on strings, an inky blackness consuming her form with a terrifying quickness. Wrath and grief spills out of her, blazing around her body, turning her into something far worse than a mere vampire, bent of blood and destruction and wicked, cruel tricks- this women looks like a demon.
Ithuriel yells in my head to move, but I can barely hear it.
My brain whirs in slow motion as I realise a little too late what is about to happen as she, in her despair, lunges for me and sends me plummeting to the ground. I hit the floor with a heavy thud as the air is knocked out of my lungs for a second time today, a sickening crack resounding from my arm as I make contact with the ground. A bloody cough rises in my throat, Ithuriel's panicked voice rising in my head as I groan from the impact, fumbling to get a grip on my sword, but something feels wrong with my wrist. My fingers grip empty air, slippery with blood.
Panic bubbles inside me.
The vampire lady screams bloody murder as she crawls her way, over to me, and with a single swipe of her clawed fingers, carves into my back a fresh, bloody, gaping wound. I arch my back and let out an agonised yell, tears pricking the edges of my voice. Ithuriel barks his alarm. But none of it seems to matter.
The lady slashes, and slashes again, tearing as skin and flesh and bone like a woman possessed, seething with grief and agonising rage.
"I hope it hurts, you bitch," she says furiously, swiping again and she marks out another gash onto my back, and then another, rhythmically tearing open my skin layer after layer with the cruel and merciless pride of a coldblooded killer. Blood oozes down my back, seeping through the torn holes in my tattered clothes.
Screwing my eyes shut, I let out scream.
Against the weakness of my body and the gaping holes on my back, a final surge of power thrums through my veins, filling me with the potential for one last act of greatness. Clenching my fists tightly into a ball, I concentrate solely on the feeling, shoving aside the pain and the burning agony to give way to that raging fire that bubbles beneath my skin.
Through the lids of my eyes, I make out a flash of light.
Then the smell of burning flesh hits my nose.
The slashing movement on my back stops, instead replaces by a gurgling wail, pricking the darkness with a grim despair. Heavily, I slump over, defeated.
Through the haziness of my head, and the sickening stench of burning flesh, I feel her being lifted off me, and then echoes that familiar, sickening snap. Her body drops down next to mine, but I barely even notice.
"Well shit, she really did a number on you. And you her, it would seem," Azrael mutters quietly, bending down on his haunches, his fingers wisping inches above my torn flesh, ghosting over my skin, assessing the damage. He leans back, nudging the burnt and smoking body with his foot before vocalising a low and deliberating hum that I have neither the strength nor the care to listen to. Blood continues to ooze like tar from my back.
After a moment's deliberation, the white haired Prince moves to pick me up, only to be met by a muffled growl that stops him dead in his tracks. Azrael snarls his response.
"Quiet, mutt, I am trying to help her," Azrael hisses, returning his attention to me as he hoists me over his back with uncanny ease. I groan loudly, coughing up a globule of phlegm and blood as the world sways sickeningly before me, spots of light swimming before my eyes. Azrael, as expected, doesn't seem to care.
Help, I laugh inwardly to myself, fighting off the darkness that begins to creep into the edges of my already dullened vision. Help me? You practically let her tear me to pieces!
But of course, all this comes out in a low, fading groan. From somewhere on the ground, Ithuriel barks his concern.
"Shit," he mutters again, breaking me from my thoughts, wiping his bloody hands on his pristine trousers, visibility shaking, the hunger in his voice practically tangible. Ithuriel growls again, the murmurs of his voice all around, but my eyes are darkening, and I can barely even pick out the silhouette of the trees let alone a small fox. My head spins nauseously.
Azrael sighs with obvious frustration.
"I will have to burn these bodies later. Stick close to me, fox, we are leaving before she bleeds out. I am not about to have my brother's mate's body on my hands.. Not today."
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The embittered sounds of my misgivings echo around the clearing as I stare down the white haired vampire with a distinctly obvious distaste.
Foul creature, I think narrowly to myself, partially out of the daring inquiry to test whether my necklace does have any effect on blocking his mind powers, and equally out of a loathing spite for the Prince's untimely and somewhat uncanny appearances. Yet the white haired vampire gives no indication of hearing my inward remarks, sauntering up against a tree laxly as though I hadn't just hurled insults at him from my mind. Perfect.
Some crazy instinct in me manages to dare a grin.
Part of me thinks it would be somewhat satisfying to him the same treatment I gave poor Andrais- skewer him through the heart and set him ablaze, if only to see that smug grin wiped of his face. But then I remind myself that (rather unfortunately,) I would likely end up with half a kingdom after my blood- if they weren't after it already, and that as satisfying as that plan might sound, I still have a much greater one to put into action.
So instead, I flick Azrael the middle finger and heave my bloody silver sword up to my hip with a menacing semblance.
"Fuck off," I repeat a little bolder now, to which Ithuriel snarls his agreement. "I can handle these bastards by myself,"
Azrael, whose slender form is leant casually against a spruce tree, head tipped, eyes narrowed in the faint amusement that comes with the spectacle before him, clucks his tongue in a humorous disapproval.
"Language, Serena," he says, shifting his weight into a standing position as he ambles over towards us casually, surveying the two ladies on the ground as if I weren't just about to kill them. I throw him another middle finger.
"I don't need being told what to do by a vampire who thought it would be funny to pose as me," I snarl, and spit at the ground for good measure, causing the two ladies to recoil in horror. Azrael smiles coyly.
"Ah, so you noticed that. Well I am glad someone has got a bit of perception round here, unlike my brother. Though I suppose I must thank you for telling him about my powers, too, it has certainly made things infinitely more interesting," he smirks, gazing down upon the two women who flail pitifully on the ground, carefully nudging one of them with his boot, just to see if they will respond. But the action causes Ithuriel to lose hold of them momentarily, distracted by the invasive presence who lurks like a lone shark in shallow waters, and he shies away momentarily.
But a moment is all they need. In an instant they throw themselves on Azrael, howling their laments.
"Azrael, oh Azrael," the blonde haired one cries, wrapping her arms around him in a strange softness that certainly wasn't there before, as though the presence of the Prince has suddenly turned her into something more than a monster lusting for blood. Tears sparkle on her cheeks, glistening under the light of the half dead fires. Mournfully, the two women wail like siren's as I advance, lifting my sword that glints with the stains of fresh blood and the promise of death. They press themselves up further against Azrael.
"She is going to kill us Azrael, kill us. You must tell Soren, you must have her removed!"
"Removed!" Echoes the other vampire, who grovels before his feet, begging out her mercy. I scoff inwardly.
The only ones needing removal are these two wretches.
Ithuriel, who steadies himself on his feet a few paces away, shaking out his sparkling white furs, barks his approval:
I second that, my Queen, take them out.
Firmly, I turn my attention back to the scene before me, then promptly grimace in vile disgust.
Azrael swoons over the blonde haired lady, taking her delicate face in his hands, an expression of concern pulling over his features as he caresses the side of her face lovingly. Helpless and wanting, she leans herself into his pale palm, whimpering continuously.
Not even a vampire could resist the charms of such a despicable Prince. Disgusting.
"Oh my sweet little Rose," he coos to her, cupping her face with both his hands now, his long pale fingers snaking themselves over her skin. Yet there is a newfound menace in the silky way that he moves, a coiling slyness, his eyes narrowing like a snake in front of its prey, readying itself to strike. Her eyes grow impossibly large.
My advance falters slightly. This is a look I have seen before, and it is by no means a good one. Azrael's frosty voice rings out into the darkness, cutting through the silent suspense like sheets of ice.
"I am afraid Prince Soren isn't very happy with you. In fact," he adds, eyes narrowing slightly to form the ominous semblance of a snake to a mouse, "I think he wants you dead."
And then with a mechanical twist of his hands, he snaps her neck.
"No!" wails the other girl on the floor, turning to me, her eyes burning like twin hell fires. I back up a little as she rises up from the ground like a marionette on strings, an inky blackness consuming her form with a terrifying quickness. Wrath and grief spills out of her, blazing around her body, turning her into something far worse than a mere vampire, bent of blood and destruction and wicked, cruel tricks- this women looks like a demon.
Ithuriel yells in my head to move, but I can barely hear it.
My brain whirs in slow motion as I realise a little too late what is about to happen as she, in her despair, lunges for me and sends me plummeting to the ground. I hit the floor with a heavy thud as the air is knocked out of my lungs for a second time today, a sickening crack resounding from my arm as I make contact with the ground. A bloody cough rises in my throat, Ithuriel's panicked voice rising in my head as I groan from the impact, fumbling to get a grip on my sword, but something feels wrong with my wrist. My fingers grip empty air, slippery with blood.
Panic bubbles inside me.
The vampire lady screams bloody murder as she crawls her way, over to me, and with a single swipe of her clawed fingers, carves into my back a fresh, bloody, gaping wound. I arch my back and let out an agonised yell, tears pricking the edges of my voice. Ithuriel barks his alarm. But none of it seems to matter.
The lady slashes, and slashes again, tearing as skin and flesh and bone like a woman possessed, seething with grief and agonising rage.
"I hope it hurts, you bitch," she says furiously, swiping again and she marks out another gash onto my back, and then another, rhythmically tearing open my skin layer after layer with the cruel and merciless pride of a coldblooded killer. Blood oozes down my back, seeping through the torn holes in my tattered clothes.
Screwing my eyes shut, I let out scream.
Against the weakness of my body and the gaping holes on my back, a final surge of power thrums through my veins, filling me with the potential for one last act of greatness. Clenching my fists tightly into a ball, I concentrate solely on the feeling, shoving aside the pain and the burning agony to give way to that raging fire that bubbles beneath my skin.
Through the lids of my eyes, I make out a flash of light.
Then the smell of burning flesh hits my nose.
The slashing movement on my back stops, instead replaces by a gurgling wail, pricking the darkness with a grim despair. Heavily, I slump over, defeated.
Through the haziness of my head, and the sickening stench of burning flesh, I feel her being lifted off me, and then echoes that familiar, sickening snap. Her body drops down next to mine, but I barely even notice.
"Well shit, she really did a number on you. And you her, it would seem," Azrael mutters quietly, bending down on his haunches, his fingers wisping inches above my torn flesh, ghosting over my skin, assessing the damage. He leans back, nudging the burnt and smoking body with his foot before vocalising a low and deliberating hum that I have neither the strength nor the care to listen to. Blood continues to ooze like tar from my back.
After a moment's deliberation, the white haired Prince moves to pick me up, only to be met by a muffled growl that stops him dead in his tracks. Azrael snarls his response.
"Quiet, mutt, I am trying to help her," Azrael hisses, returning his attention to me as he hoists me over his back with uncanny ease. I groan loudly, coughing up a globule of phlegm and blood as the world sways sickeningly before me, spots of light swimming before my eyes. Azrael, as expected, doesn't seem to care.
Help, I laugh inwardly to myself, fighting off the darkness that begins to creep into the edges of my already dullened vision. Help me? You practically let her tear me to pieces!
But of course, all this comes out in a low, fading groan. From somewhere on the ground, Ithuriel barks his concern.
"Shit," he mutters again, breaking me from my thoughts, wiping his bloody hands on his pristine trousers, visibility shaking, the hunger in his voice practically tangible. Ithuriel growls again, the murmurs of his voice all around, but my eyes are darkening, and I can barely even pick out the silhouette of the trees let alone a small fox. My head spins nauseously.
Azrael sighs with obvious frustration.
"I will have to burn these bodies later. Stick close to me, fox, we are leaving before she bleeds out. I am not about to have my brother's mate's body on my hands.. Not today."
The embittered sounds of my misgivings echo around the clearing as I stare down the white haired vampire with a distinctly obvious distaste.Foul creature, I think narrowly to myself, partially out of the daring inquiry to test whether my necklace does have any effect on blocking his mind powers, and equally out of a loathing spite for the Prince's untimely and somewhat uncanny appearances. Yet the white haired vampire gives no indication of hearing my inward remarks, sauntering up against a tree laxly as though I hadn't just hurled insults at him from my mind. Perfect.Some crazy instinct in me manages to dare a grin.Part of me thinks it would be somewhat satisfying to him the same treatment I gave poor Andrais- skewer him through the heart and set him ablaze, if only to see that smug grin wiped of his face. But then I remind myself that rather unfortunately, I would likely end up with half a kingdom after my blood- if they weren't after it already, and that as satisfying as that plan might sound, I still have a much greater one to put into action.So instead, I flick Azrael the middle finger and heave my bloody silver sword up to my hip with a menacing semblance. "Fuck off," I repeat a little bolder now, to which Ithuriel snarls his agreement. "I can handle these bastards by myself,"Azrael, whose slender form is leant casually against a spruce tree, head tipped, eyes narrowed in the faint amusement that comes with the spectacle before him, clucks his tongue in a humorous disapproval."Language, Serena," he says, shifting his weight into a standing position as he ambles over towards us casually, surveying the two ladies on the ground as if I weren't just about to kill them. I throw him another middle finger."I don't need being told what to do by a vampire who thought it would be funny to pose as me," I snarl, and spit at the ground for good measure, causing the two ladies to recoil in horror. Azrael smiles coyly."Ah, so you noticed that. Well I am glad someone has got a bit of perception round here, unlike my brother. Though I suppose I must thank you for telling him about my powers, too, it has certainly made things infinitely more interesting," he smirks, gazing down upon the two women who flail pitifully on the ground, carefully nudging one of them with his boot, just to see if they will respond. But the action causes Ithuriel to lose hold of them momentarily, distracted by the invasive presence who lurks like a lone shark in shallow waters, and he shies away momentarily. But a moment is all they need. In an instant they throw themselves on Azrael, howling their laments."Azrael, oh Azrael," the blonde haired one cries, wrapping her arms around him in a strange softness that certainly wasn't there before, as though the presence of the Prince has suddenly turned her into something more than a monster lusting for blood. Tears sparkle on her cheeks, glistening under the light of the half dead fires. Mournfully, the two women wail like siren's as I advance, lifting my sword that glints with the stains of fresh blood and the promise of death. They press themselves up further against Azrael. "She is going to kill us Azrael, kill us. You must tell Soren, you must have her removed!""Removed!" Echoes the other vampire, who grovels before his feet, begging out her mercy. I scoff inwardly. The only ones needing removal are these two wretches.Ithuriel, who steadies himself on his feet a few paces away, shaking out his sparkling white furs, barks his approval:I second that, my Queen, take them out.Firmly, I turn my attention back to the scene before me, then promptly grimace in vile disgust.Azrael swoons over the blonde haired lady, taking her delicate face in his hands, an expression of concern pulling over his features as he caresses the side of her face lovingly. Helpless and wanting, she leans herself into his pale palm, whimpering continuously.Not even a vampire could resist the charms of such a despicable Prince. Disgusting."Oh my sweet little Rose," he coos to her, cupping her face with both his hands now, his long pale fingers snaking themselves over her skin. Yet there is a newfound menace in the silky way that he moves, a coiling slyness, his eyes narrowing like a snake in front of its prey, readying itself to strike. Her eyes grow impossibly large.My advance falters slightly. This is a look I have seen before, and it is by no means a good one. Azrael's frosty voice rings out into the darkness, cutting through the silent suspense like sheets of ice."I am afraid Prince Soren isn't very happy with you. In fact," he adds, eyes narrowing slightly to form the ominous semblance of a snake to a mouse, "I think he wants you dead."And then with a mechanical twist of his hands, he snaps her neck."No!" wails the other girl on the floor, turning to me, her eyes burning like twin hell fires. I back up a little as she rises up from the ground like a marionette on strings, an inky blackness consuming her form with a terrifying quickness. Wrath and grief spills out of her, blazing around her body, turning her into something far worse than a mere vampire, bent of blood and destruction and wicked, cruel tricks- this women looks like a demon.Ithuriel yells in my head to move, but I can barely hear it.My brain whirs in slow motion as I realise a little too late what is about to happen as she, in her despair, lunges for me and sends me plummeting to the ground. I hit the floor with a heavy thud as the air is knocked out of my lungs for a second time today, a sickening crack resounding from my arm as I make contact with the ground. A bloody cough rises in my throat, Ithuriel's panicked voice rising in my head as I groan from the impact, fumbling to get a grip on my sword, but something feels wrong with my wrist. My fingers grip empty air, slippery with blood.Panic bubbles inside me.The vampire lady screams bloody murder as she crawls her way, over to me, and with a single swipe of her clawed fingers, carves into my back a fresh, bloody, gaping wound. I arch my back and let out an agonised yell, tears pricking the edges of my voice. Ithuriel barks his alarm. But none of it seems to matter.The lady slashes, and slashes again, tearing as skin and flesh and bone like a woman possessed, seething with grief and agonising rage."I hope it hurts, you bitch," she says furiously, swiping again and she marks out another gash onto my back, and then another, rhythmically tearing open my skin layer after layer with the cruel and merciless pride of a coldblooded killer. Blood oozes down my back, seeping through the torn holes in my tattered clothes.Screwing my eyes shut, I let out scream. Against the weakness of my body and the gaping holes on my back, a final surge of power thrums through my veins, filling me with the potential for one last act of greatness. Clenching my fists tightly into a ball, I concentrate solely on the feeling, shoving aside the pain and the burning agony to give way to that raging fire that bubbles beneath my skin.Through the lids of my eyes, I make out a flash of light. Then the smell of burning flesh hits my nose.The slashing movement on my back stops, instead replaces by a gurgling wail, pricking the darkness with a grim despair. Heavily, I slump over, defeated.Through the haziness of my head, and the sickening stench of burning flesh, I feel her being lifted off me, and then echoes that familiar, sickening snap. Her body drops down next to mine, but I barely even notice. "Well shit, she really did a number on you. And you her, it would seem," Azrael mutters quietly, bending down on his haunches, his fingers wisping inches above my torn flesh, ghosting over my skin, assessing the damage. He leans back, nudging the burnt and smoking body with his foot before vocalising a low and deliberating hum that I have neither the strength nor the care to listen to. Blood continues to ooze like tar from my back. After a moment's deliberation, the white haired Prince moves to pick me up, only to be met by a muffled growl that stops him dead in his tracks. Azrael snarls his response."Quiet, mutt, I am trying to help her," Azrael hisses, returning his attention to me as he hoists me over his back with uncanny ease. I groan loudly, coughing up a globule of phlegm and blood as the world sways sickeningly before me, spots of light swimming before my eyes. Azrael, as expected, doesn't seem to care.Help, I laugh inwardly to myself, fighting off the darkness that begins to creep into the edges of my already dullened vision. Help me? You practically let her tear me to pieces!But of course, all this comes out in a low, fading groan. From somewhere on the ground, Ithuriel barks his concern."Shit," he mutters again, breaking me from my thoughts, wiping his bloody hands on his pristine trousers, visibility shaking, the hunger in his voice practically tangible. Ithuriel growls again, the murmurs of his voice all around, but my eyes are darkening, and I can barely even pick out the silhouette of the trees let alone a small fox. My head spins nauseously. Azrael sighs with obvious frustration."I will have to burn these bodies later. Stick close to me, fox, we are leaving before she bleeds out. I am not about to have my brother's mate's body on my hands.. Not today."
