Chapter 207: 207
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This Kal is a huge, black dragon.
"Holy shit," I manage to whisper breathlessly, hardly believing what I am seeing. Despite my weak and wobbly form, I attempt to stand, trying to get a better look at Kal. So jarring is the sight before me that it almost makes my head spin: no longer is Kal the small, friendly little dragon who is more than content to perch upon your shoulder, but a huge, behemoth scaly monster of a creature. If I were Azrael, I would be absolutely terrified.
Part of me is tempted to run out to him, but Soren's hand clutches around my waist, a dangerously worried look fleeting across his golden gaze, lips parted with an unexpressed concern. Despite my struggles, he holds me tight.
It occurs to me then that he has not let go of me since the moment Azrael took my blood. His body is positioned firmly around mine, not fighting as he usually does, but defending, cocooning me in his leathery wings. Why he hasn't yet beheaded Azrael is beyond me, but from the look of concern that has not left his handsome face, I would say there is more to it than simply apathy or carelessness. Soren is watching for something- but what?
A low snarl rips from Kal's throat as Azrael tries to step closer, a move which the white haired vampire swiftly finds himself regretting.
My attention is prevalently drawn back to the dragon towering in rippling shadows before us as a low growl reverberates from his long neck, causing the whole room to shudder in fearful anticipation. The dragon's tail sweeps out behind him, curling around the two tiny figures beside him and scooping them up protectively. I have never seen Kal look so enraged: his black eyes narrowed, lips peeled into a permanent snarl.
But much to my relief, Ithuriel's whimpers of pain die completely, lost in the comforting embrace of the dragon and the reassuring (if not slightly fear induced) strokes of Dawn who drags her fingers through his fur over and over in the ragged manner that young children do. Finally deciding that Ithuriel is once again safe, Kal returns his attention to the vampire who stammers before him.
Kals voice practically drips with his rage when he says:
"I told you not to touch him."
It is at that moment when I see it.
The reason for Kal's insistent protection of Ithuriel, his seemingly harmless flirtatious and peculiar infatuation with my best friend upon their meeting. Fangorn's confusion when I asked him if Kal had ever loved someone, and the sly, jealous glances I had earned myself across the table at Fangorn's abode. Kal's distraught, his rage over Azrael even implying to cause any harm to the little white fox, everything, all of it, points to one stupidly obvious fact that I had somehow failed to see.
I'm such an idiot.
"Holy fucking hell," I whisper, covering my mouth in a last ditch attempt to muffle my profanities, realising there is a minor sitting just across the room, tucked up in the dragons tail. But my mind is reeling, half surprised, half angry that I hadn't noticed something so monumental before.
"Kal's bonded to Ithuriel. They share a mating link."
To this, Ithuriel's ears prick up, his fur rustling to attention, as though this is as much news to him as it is me.
I start to move towards them, to reach out my hand, but before the action fully even registers in my mind, Soren's hand clutches over my own, drawing me back into him.
"You must not," he warns, closing his fingers over my own, his eyes darting warily. Darkness spikes the air between us, his powers rapidly growing into clouds of smoky blackness, swirling and clawing at the air like thousands of tiny paws batting at our surroundings. Even with his magic surrounding us, still Soren clutches me close to his chest, his grip on me protective.
"Serena," he warns once more as I struggle against him.
"Azrael has your blood, he may use it against you. Do not make yourself a vulnerable target by moving into his path. Until that blood is removed from his body, you will have as little power over him as he has you. I know you wonder why I do not kill him- for believe me, I very much want to, but I am uncertain whether such an action will hurt you as well. A soul's blood is a very powerful thing, even so much as a drop can be lethal. I will not risk hurting you Serena, or losing you. But I promise I will not let Azrael live for the crimes he has committed."
From the middle of the room, Azrael sighs, throwing up his hands.
"It appears I can't have any fun down here," he grimaces, sparing glances to both Kal and Soren and I. With a sheltered nervousness, he eyes up the spikes of darkness that revolve around my form- Soren's magic extending its protective reach to the two of us. Clearly, there are about a thousand thoughts running through his mind- none of which are likely remotely any good.
But then, after a short period of deliberation, Azrael decides on which train of thought to follow.
Boldly, Azrael takes a step towards us, and Soren's magic snaps at the gap between us, biting into Azrael's legs, causing him to stumble back. Then upon realising what he has done, the Scarlet Prince shifts his gaze swiftly to me, looking me up and down, assessing for any damage. I too look over myself, twisting my hands in front of my vision, warily extending out a limb, and then another. But there are no marks on my skin, no scars. Then a growing realisation hits me like flint against steel: I am not harmed by the use of Soren's magic against Azrael.
At last, a smile manages to cross my face as I lean over to whisper against Soren's ear.
"Kill him."
Soren doesn't need telling twice.
Stalking forward like a predator on its prey, Soren's grasp slips from my own, the phantom warm of his body trailing away with the cold, ardent wisping hands of the shadows against the stagnant air. Azrael backs up, his face slackening with a look that could be fear as much as it could be gleeful anticipation.
Frigidly, he looks around the room, assessing his options, understanding all at once with a growing look of realisation that he is completely and utterly surrounded- not that it matters to him. A snake like him could worm his way out of any situation, near death experience or awkward encounter, with enough time that is. But surprisingly enough, Azrael does not run. He merely wipes the perspiration from the good side of his face and points a bony finger at the dragon looming next to him, shuddering away from the low rumbling growls and the coils of black flames that drip with a strange liquid viscosity to the ruined floor beneath us.
"Me and you, Soren," he calls across the room, ducking under the swipe of Kal's claws before flickering to the other side of the room, his form doused in wreathing, smoky shadows.
"Me and you, lets make this even. Lets leave the dragon out of this."
Soren doesn't stop circling his brother, his nails clenching like the claws of a lion after its prey, just marginally out of reach, but not yet off the table.
A voiceless communication zaps through the air between Kal and Soren. Soren's eyes gleaming a deep crimson, his face taut, until at last Kal subsides with a smoky huff. Heaving upward, Kal coils his tail in the air as carries his two associates over towards me, the ground shaking with each leaden step.
A warm puff of breath extends down my back as Kal the dragon sets himself behind me, claws clenched against the ground, his tail coiling around me, scooping me up in his grasp with the others.
I see. I muse to myself silently, a little disdainfully. So Kal is my protector for now. Soren took the bait.
And then another thought occurs to me.
In case everything goes wrong.
It is not that I am not appreciative for Soren going such a length to protect me- in fact I am rather grateful, but there is a slight part of me that feels somewhat crestfallen over the matter. Looking into the gleaming silver of my well worn sword, I become listlessly helpless in the knowledge that- while my powers are rendered useless against Azrael for the time being, that does not make me useless by myself.
Lovingly, and somewhat morosely, I run my finger over the edge of my blade, a possession I have kept so well polished, cared for, the symbol of my courage, my dignity, and now, it would seem, my worst enemy. Silver is not for vampires. That is a fact I am very much aware of.
Sensing my distress, a voice calls out to me against the foggy darkness of my mind, soft, yet somewhat strained, perhaps with the effort of trying to keep his notoriously volatile emotions under control.
I cannot let you near him, Serena. I am sorry.
Clutching the edge of Kal's blackened scaly tail, I lean over, facing towards him. But Soren's eyes are fixed on his brother, his wings stretched out to cast menacing shadows over the room, his body swamped with blackness, consuming his very being in swirls of mystical, foreboding darkness. But the nagging worry in my chest is too great to pass up. So I lean forward, my eyes fixated on his tall, familiar form, willing for him to hear me as Azrael and Soren circle each other like wolves from two opposing packs, snarls ripping through the air between every well placed step....
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This Kal is a huge, black dragon.
"Holy shit," I manage to whisper breathlessly, hardly believing what I am seeing. Despite my weak and wobbly form, I attempt to stand, trying to get a better look at Kal. So jarring is the sight before me that it almost makes my head spin: no longer is Kal the small, friendly little dragon who is more than content to perch upon your shoulder, but a huge, behemoth scaly monster of a creature. If I were Azrael, I would be absolutely terrified.
Part of me is tempted to run out to him, but Soren's hand clutches around my waist, a dangerously worried look fleeting across his golden gaze, lips parted with an unexpressed concern. Despite my struggles, he holds me tight.
It occurs to me then that he has not let go of me since the moment Azrael took my blood. His body is positioned firmly around mine, not fighting as he usually does, but defending, cocooning me in his leathery wings. Why he hasn't yet beheaded Azrael is beyond me, but from the look of concern that has not left his handsome face, I would say there is more to it than simply apathy or carelessness. Soren is watching for something- but what?
A low snarl rips from Kal's throat as Azrael tries to step closer, a move which the white haired vampire swiftly finds himself regretting.
My attention is prevalently drawn back to the dragon towering in rippling shadows before us as a low growl reverberates from his long neck, causing the whole room to shudder in fearful anticipation. The dragon's tail sweeps out behind him, curling around the two tiny figures beside him and scooping them up protectively. I have never seen Kal look so enraged: his black eyes narrowed, lips peeled into a permanent snarl.
But much to my relief, Ithuriel's whimpers of pain die completely, lost in the comforting embrace of the dragon and the reassuring (if not slightly fear induced) strokes of Dawn who drags her fingers through his fur over and over in the ragged manner that young children do. Finally deciding that Ithuriel is once again safe, Kal returns his attention to the vampire who stammers before him.
Kals voice practically drips with his rage when he says:
"I told you not to touch him."
It is at that moment when I see it.
The reason for Kal's insistent protection of Ithuriel, his seemingly harmless flirtatious and peculiar infatuation with my best friend upon their meeting. Fangorn's confusion when I asked him if Kal had ever loved someone, and the sly, jealous glances I had earned myself across the table at Fangorn's abode. Kal's distraught, his rage over Azrael even implying to cause any harm to the little white fox, everything, all of it, points to one stupidly obvious fact that I had somehow failed to see.
I'm such an idiot.
"Holy fucking hell," I whisper, covering my mouth in a last ditch attempt to muffle my profanities, realising there is a minor sitting just across the room, tucked up in the dragons tail. But my mind is reeling, half surprised, half angry that I hadn't noticed something so monumental before.
"Kal's bonded to Ithuriel. They share a mating link."
To this, Ithuriel's ears prick up, his fur rustling to attention, as though this is as much news to him as it is me.
I start to move towards them, to reach out my hand, but before the action fully even registers in my mind, Soren's hand clutches over my own, drawing me back into him.
"You must not," he warns, closing his fingers over my own, his eyes darting warily. Darkness spikes the air between us, his powers rapidly growing into clouds of smoky blackness, swirling and clawing at the air like thousands of tiny paws batting at our surroundings. Even with his magic surrounding us, still Soren clutches me close to his chest, his grip on me protective.
"Serena," he warns once more as I struggle against him.
"Azrael has your blood, he may use it against you. Do not make yourself a vulnerable target by moving into his path. Until that blood is removed from his body, you will have as little power over him as he has you. I know you wonder why I do not kill him- for believe me, I very much want to, but I am uncertain whether such an action will hurt you as well. A soul's blood is a very powerful thing, even so much as a drop can be lethal. I will not risk hurting you Serena, or losing you. But I promise I will not let Azrael live for the crimes he has committed."
From the middle of the room, Azrael sighs, throwing up his hands.
"It appears I can't have any fun down here," he grimaces, sparing glances to both Kal and Soren and I. With a sheltered nervousness, he eyes up the spikes of darkness that revolve around my form- Soren's magic extending its protective reach to the two of us. Clearly, there are about a thousand thoughts running through his mind- none of which are likely remotely any good.
But then, after a short period of deliberation, Azrael decides on which train of thought to follow.
Boldly, Azrael takes a step towards us, and Soren's magic snaps at the gap between us, biting into Azrael's legs, causing him to stumble back. Then upon realising what he has done, the Scarlet Prince shifts his gaze swiftly to me, looking me up and down, assessing for any damage. I too look over myself, twisting my hands in front of my vision, warily extending out a limb, and then another. But there are no marks on my skin, no scars. Then a growing realisation hits me like flint against steel: I am not harmed by the use of Soren's magic against Azrael.
At last, a smile manages to cross my face as I lean over to whisper against Soren's ear.
"Kill him."
Soren doesn't need telling twice.
Stalking forward like a predator on its prey, Soren's grasp slips from my own, the phantom warm of his body trailing away with the cold, ardent wisping hands of the shadows against the stagnant air. Azrael backs up, his face slackening with a look that could be fear as much as it could be gleeful anticipation.
Frigidly, he looks around the room, assessing his options, understanding all at once with a growing look of realisation that he is completely and utterly surrounded- not that it matters to him. A snake like him could worm his way out of any situation, near death experience or awkward encounter, with enough time that is. But surprisingly enough, Azrael does not run. He merely wipes the perspiration from the good side of his face and points a bony finger at the dragon looming next to him, shuddering away from the low rumbling growls and the coils of black flames that drip with a strange liquid viscosity to the ruined floor beneath us.
"Me and you, Soren," he calls across the room, ducking under the swipe of Kal's claws before flickering to the other side of the room, his form doused in wreathing, smoky shadows.
"Me and you, lets make this even. Lets leave the dragon out of this."
Soren doesn't stop circling his brother, his nails clenching like the claws of a lion after its prey, just marginally out of reach, but not yet off the table.
A voiceless communication zaps through the air between Kal and Soren. Soren's eyes gleaming a deep crimson, his face taut, until at last Kal subsides with a smoky huff. Heaving upward, Kal coils his tail in the air as carries his two associates over towards me, the ground shaking with each leaden step.
A warm puff of breath extends down my back as Kal the dragon sets himself behind me, claws clenched against the ground, his tail coiling around me, scooping me up in his grasp with the others.
I see. I muse to myself silently, a little disdainfully. So Kal is my protector for now. Soren took the bait.
And then another thought occurs to me.
In case everything goes wrong.
It is not that I am not appreciative for Soren going such a length to protect me- in fact I am rather grateful, but there is a slight part of me that feels somewhat crestfallen over the matter. Looking into the gleaming silver of my well worn sword, I become listlessly helpless in the knowledge that- while my powers are rendered useless against Azrael for the time being, that does not make me useless by myself.
Lovingly, and somewhat morosely, I run my finger over the edge of my blade, a possession I have kept so well polished, cared for, the symbol of my courage, my dignity, and now, it would seem, my worst enemy. Silver is not for vampires. That is a fact I am very much aware of.
Sensing my distress, a voice calls out to me against the foggy darkness of my mind, soft, yet somewhat strained, perhaps with the effort of trying to keep his notoriously volatile emotions under control.
I cannot let you near him, Serena. I am sorry.
Clutching the edge of Kal's blackened scaly tail, I lean over, facing towards him. But Soren's eyes are fixed on his brother, his wings stretched out to cast menacing shadows over the room, his body swamped with blackness, consuming his very being in swirls of mystical, foreboding darkness. But the nagging worry in my chest is too great to pass up. So I lean forward, my eyes fixated on his tall, familiar form, willing for him to hear me as Azrael and Soren circle each other like wolves from two opposing packs, snarls ripping through the air between every well placed step....
This Kal is a huge, black dragon."Holy shit," I manage to whisper breathlessly, hardly believing what I am seeing. Despite my weak and wobbly form, I attempt to stand, trying to get a better look at Kal. So jarring is the sight before me that it almost makes my head spin: no longer is Kal the small, friendly little dragon who is more than content to perch upon your shoulder, but a huge, behemoth scaly monster of a creature. If I were Azrael, I would be absolutely terrified. Part of me is tempted to run out to him, but Soren's hand clutches around my waist, a dangerously worried look fleeting across his golden gaze, lips parted with an unexpressed concern. Despite my struggles, he holds me tight.It occurs to me then that he has not let go of me since the moment Azrael took my blood. His body is positioned firmly around mine, not fighting as he usually does, but defending, cocooning me in his leathery wings. Why he hasn't yet beheaded Azrael is beyond me, but from the look of concern that has not left his handsome face, I would say there is more to it than simply apathy or carelessness. Soren is watching for something- but what?A low snarl rips from Kal's throat as Azrael tries to step closer, a move which the white haired vampire swiftly finds himself regretting. My attention is prevalently drawn back to the dragon towering in rippling shadows before us as a low growl reverberates from his long neck, causing the whole room to shudder in fearful anticipation. The dragon's tail sweeps out behind him, curling around the two tiny figures beside him and scooping them up protectively. I have never seen Kal look so enraged: his black eyes narrowed, lips peeled into a permanent snarl. But much to my relief, Ithuriel's whimpers of pain die completely, lost in the comforting embrace of the dragon and the reassuring if not slightly fear induced strokes of Dawn who drags her fingers through his fur over and over in the ragged manner that young children do. Finally deciding that Ithuriel is once again safe, Kal returns his attention to the vampire who stammers before him.Kals voice practically drips with his rage when he says:"I told you not to touch him."It is at that moment when I see it.The reason for Kal's insistent protection of Ithuriel, his seemingly harmless flirtatious and peculiar infatuation with my best friend upon their meeting. Fangorn's confusion when I asked him if Kal had ever loved someone, and the sly, jealous glances I had earned myself across the table at Fangorn's abode. Kal's distraught, his rage over Azrael even implying to cause any harm to the little white fox, everything, all of it, points to one stupidly obvious fact that I had somehow failed to see.I'm such an idiot. "Holy fucking hell," I whisper, covering my mouth in a last ditch attempt to muffle my profanities, realising there is a minor sitting just across the room, tucked up in the dragons tail. But my mind is reeling, half surprised, half angry that I hadn't noticed something so monumental before. "Kal's bonded to Ithuriel. They share a mating link."To this, Ithuriel's ears prick up, his fur rustling to attention, as though this is as much news to him as it is me. I start to move towards them, to reach out my hand, but before the action fully even registers in my mind, Soren's hand clutches over my own, drawing me back into him."You must not," he warns, closing his fingers over my own, his eyes darting warily. Darkness spikes the air between us, his powers rapidly growing into clouds of smoky blackness, swirling and clawing at the air like thousands of tiny paws batting at our surroundings. Even with his magic surrounding us, still Soren clutches me close to his chest, his grip on me protective."Serena," he warns once more as I struggle against him."Azrael has your blood, he may use it against you. Do not make yourself a vulnerable target by moving into his path. Until that blood is removed from his body, you will have as little power over him as he has you. I know you wonder why I do not kill him- for believe me, I very much want to, but I am uncertain whether such an action will hurt you as well. A soul's blood is a very powerful thing, even so much as a drop can be lethal. I will not risk hurting you Serena, or losing you. But I promise I will not let Azrael live for the crimes he has committed."From the middle of the room, Azrael sighs, throwing up his hands."It appears I can't have any fun down here," he grimaces, sparing glances to both Kal and Soren and I. With a sheltered nervousness, he eyes up the spikes of darkness that revolve around my form- Soren's magic extending its protective reach to the two of us. Clearly, there are about a thousand thoughts running through his mind- none of which are likely remotely any good.But then, after a short period of deliberation, Azrael decides on which train of thought to follow. Boldly, Azrael takes a step towards us, and Soren's magic snaps at the gap between us, biting into Azrael's legs, causing him to stumble back. Then upon realising what he has done, the Scarlet Prince shifts his gaze swiftly to me, looking me up and down, assessing for any damage. I too look over myself, twisting my hands in front of my vision, warily extending out a limb, and then another. But there are no marks on my skin, no scars. Then a growing realisation hits me like flint against steel: I am not harmed by the use of Soren's magic against Azrael.At last, a smile manages to cross my face as I lean over to whisper against Soren's ear."Kill him."Soren doesn't need telling twice.Stalking forward like a predator on its prey, Soren's grasp slips from my own, the phantom warm of his body trailing away with the cold, ardent wisping hands of the shadows against the stagnant air. Azrael backs up, his face slackening with a look that could be fear as much as it could be gleeful anticipation.Frigidly, he looks around the room, assessing his options, understanding all at once with a growing look of realisation that he is completely and utterly surrounded- not that it matters to him. A snake like him could worm his way out of any situation, near death experience or awkward encounter, with enough time that is. But surprisingly enough, Azrael does not run. He merely wipes the perspiration from the good side of his face and points a bony finger at the dragon looming next to him, shuddering away from the low rumbling growls and the coils of black flames that drip with a strange liquid viscosity to the ruined floor beneath us."Me and you, Soren," he calls across the room, ducking under the swipe of Kal's claws before flickering to the other side of the room, his form doused in wreathing, smoky shadows."Me and you, lets make this even. Lets leave the dragon out of this."Soren doesn't stop circling his brother, his nails clenching like the claws of a lion after its prey, just marginally out of reach, but not yet off the table. A voiceless communication zaps through the air between Kal and Soren. Soren's eyes gleaming a deep crimson, his face taut, until at last Kal subsides with a smoky huff. Heaving upward, Kal coils his tail in the air as carries his two associates over towards me, the ground shaking with each leaden step.A warm puff of breath extends down my back as Kal the dragon sets himself behind me, claws clenched against the ground, his tail coiling around me, scooping me up in his grasp with the others.I see. I muse to myself silently, a little disdainfully. So Kal is my protector for now. Soren took the bait.And then another thought occurs to me.In case everything goes wrong.It is not that I am not appreciative for Soren going such a length to protect me- in fact I am rather grateful, but there is a slight part of me that feels somewhat crestfallen over the matter. Looking into the gleaming silver of my well worn sword, I become listlessly helpless in the knowledge that- while my powers are rendered useless against Azrael for the time being, that does not make me useless by myself. Lovingly, and somewhat morosely, I run my finger over the edge of my blade, a possession I have kept so well polished, cared for, the symbol of my courage, my dignity, and now, it would seem, my worst enemy. Silver is not for vampires. That is a fact I am very much aware of.Sensing my distress, a voice calls out to me against the foggy darkness of my mind, soft, yet somewhat strained, perhaps with the effort of trying to keep his notoriously volatile emotions under control.I cannot let you near him, Serena. I am sorry.Clutching the edge of Kal's blackened scaly tail, I lean over, facing towards him. But Soren's eyes are fixed on his brother, his wings stretched out to cast menacing shadows over the room, his body swamped with blackness, consuming his very being in swirls of mystical, foreboding darkness. But the nagging worry in my chest is too great to pass up. So I lean forward, my eyes fixated on his tall, familiar form, willing for him to hear me as Azrael and Soren circle each other like wolves from two opposing packs, snarls ripping through the air between every well placed step....
