Chapter 26: 26
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
The tower heaves. I pause for a moment, waiting for the tumble of boxes which I decide after a few moments, will not come.
The box is open ajar, and much to my relief the lid swings up to reveal soft reams of fabric and cotton clothes. I sigh shakily, running a hand over my head. Thank goodness. Blindly I pick out a beige button up top and some soft matching bottoms, slinging them over my shoulder as Ithuriel's reply hits my ears.
"It's only for a bit. Besides, that wasn't the question," he tuts, a little annoyed but not angry as he rounds into the main room, his hair wet and tainted light green, a golden robe tied loosely around his body, held in place by a thick, ropey belt. His face is pale, the bear paw tattoo stark against his skin, rippling against the look of worry that passes over him. He folds his arms over himself- the way he does when he is exasperated with me, wings tucking in neatly behind him. The sight of his wings throws me off a little. Part of me had become so used to seeing horns and fangs it almost didn't seem natural anymore. I frown to myself.
"So I messed up a little, " I tell him, pushing past him as I move towards the bathroom, almost tripping over my boots as I do. Ithuriel watches me as I go, eyebrows raised, a heavy look of judgement adorning his face. My stomach churns guiltily.
"Messed up how?" Ithuriel says slowly, and I hear his foot tapping against the floorboards as I throw off my dress into the long marble bathtub, turning on the sink tap, hot water gushing out in heavy streams. Not a single ounce of me can be bothered to take a bath. Baths take too long, and I am too tired, I confirm to myself, as if I needed any more convincing. Viscously grabbing a bar of soap, I decide the best thing to do is to at least get the stench of iron out my skin. There is nothing quite as revolting as rancid blood.
I start rinsing myself off, water streaming through my cupped hands as I scrub vigorously down my face, chest, arms, scraping off the blood from under my fingernails with revolt. I hold back vomit. My reflection is pale and pasty in the mirror, my eyes a little too wild, my lips slightly swollen and a little more red than usual. I look like a mess, I breathe heavily to myself, breath fogging up the glass with my disgust.
"The Scarlet Prince," I say aloud, splashing myself with another handful of water. The droplets trickle down my cheek, pooling under my chin.
"What about the Scarlet Prince?" From the tone of his voice, I can tell he is getting more and more frustrated. I'm being coy with him, and deliberately so. But the guilt of the situation knaws at my insides, and all at once I feel afraid to tell him anything at all. His pacing footsteps ring around the room, soft thuds running back and forth across the floor boards. Pat pat pat. I turn the tap off, and begin pulling on my clothes restlessly, fumbling at the buttons on my shirt. My fingers shake.
"He, um, seems to like me. Which sort of messed up the plan of being discreet. So I went with it, because I thought maybe I could use him to help me. Maybe I got a bit too carried away, and there was this other vampire who glamoured me to try and take off my clothes and..." I swallow, choking back a rising sob. "Oh heavens." I stumble back out into the living room, gnawing at my cheek with nervous fervour, my fingers tearing shakily at my cuffs. It seems almost stupid that my body decided now is the time to start panicking- that out of everything that happened today this is what makes me crack. Pitiful. My legs shake beneath me. My arms feel like limp, wobbly noodles, and my teeth clamp down so hard on my cheek that I nearly draw blood. My knees feel like they are going to give out beneath me. The room spins. Then a sick feeling rocks through my body- terrible, so terrible in fact that as soon as Ithuriel catches sight of me his hair goes white with shock.
"Hey," he whispers quietly, rushing to my side, drawing his wings protectively around me. His hand grip onto the upper portion of my arm, holding me steady. The angel's eyes soften and he leans his chin on the top of my head, drawing soothing circles on the top of my back. "Hey, hey, hey, shhh, it's okay. Calm down, Serena, everything is going to be fine," he murmurs, and I breathe in shakily, taking in the warmth of his skin and the sweet smell of pine and elderberry. Ithuriel is using his magic, I know he his. I can feel it in the unnatural sense of calm washes over me, flooding my brain with emptiness until all that's left is a blissful nothing. But I sink into it, my limbs too tired to fight. My heart feels devoid of its usual vivacity, as though my blood wasn't the only thing Soren had sucked out of me.
Ithuriel stays silent for a moment, thinking, his wings wrapping more tightly around me, as if scared I might suddenly collapse before him.
"I'm okay, Ithuriel, really. It's just been a strange day," I tell him, straining to hide the shakiness of my voice as I bring up my sleeve to wipe my eyes. Ithuriel draws back, lips pursed and as silent as ever. He looks me up and down accusingly.
"Come on," he murmurs, deciding it best to guide me into one of the two armchairs. The chair squeaks as I sit down, sinking into the pillowy cushioned fabric, tucking my legs to one side. Absently, I bring my hands up to touch the pendant at my throat, the metal cold beneath my fingers. I shiver. A part of me wonders briefly about taking it off and just for a bit feeling the stretch of my wings splaying behind me, to feel a breeze in my feathers once more. A silly idea. I drop the pendant.
"I've got to win his favour, Ithuriel. I've got to earn his trust." I say, splaying my hands out in front of me, half out of exasperation. Ithuriel lowers himself into the opposite armchair, wings draped awkwardly over the sides as he runs a hand through his blue fading hair, sighing.
"I fear you may be right. If it is as you say, and the Scarlet Prince is taken with you, then perhaps the best thing to do is to use that to our advantage." He pauses for a moment, scratching his chin, pondering. All at once he becomes very serious.
"You must be very careful, Serena. He is a vampire, no matter what you do, you must not let yourself fall for his trap. The Scarlet Prince is the worst of all vampires, he is as much as charming Prince as he is a mendacious, coldblooded killer. You would do well to remember that you could be his next victim just as easily as I.. Tread carefully."
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
The tower heaves. I pause for a moment, waiting for the tumble of boxes which I decide after a few moments, will not come.
The box is open ajar, and much to my relief the lid swings up to reveal soft reams of fabric and cotton clothes. I sigh shakily, running a hand over my head. Thank goodness. Blindly I pick out a beige button up top and some soft matching bottoms, slinging them over my shoulder as Ithuriel's reply hits my ears.
"It's only for a bit. Besides, that wasn't the question," he tuts, a little annoyed but not angry as he rounds into the main room, his hair wet and tainted light green, a golden robe tied loosely around his body, held in place by a thick, ropey belt. His face is pale, the bear paw tattoo stark against his skin, rippling against the look of worry that passes over him. He folds his arms over himself- the way he does when he is exasperated with me, wings tucking in neatly behind him. The sight of his wings throws me off a little. Part of me had become so used to seeing horns and fangs it almost didn't seem natural anymore. I frown to myself.
"So I messed up a little, " I tell him, pushing past him as I move towards the bathroom, almost tripping over my boots as I do. Ithuriel watches me as I go, eyebrows raised, a heavy look of judgement adorning his face. My stomach churns guiltily.
"Messed up how?" Ithuriel says slowly, and I hear his foot tapping against the floorboards as I throw off my dress into the long marble bathtub, turning on the sink tap, hot water gushing out in heavy streams. Not a single ounce of me can be bothered to take a bath. Baths take too long, and I am too tired, I confirm to myself, as if I needed any more convincing. Viscously grabbing a bar of soap, I decide the best thing to do is to at least get the stench of iron out my skin. There is nothing quite as revolting as rancid blood.
I start rinsing myself off, water streaming through my cupped hands as I scrub vigorously down my face, chest, arms, scraping off the blood from under my fingernails with revolt. I hold back vomit. My reflection is pale and pasty in the mirror, my eyes a little too wild, my lips slightly swollen and a little more red than usual. I look like a mess, I breathe heavily to myself, breath fogging up the glass with my disgust.
"The Scarlet Prince," I say aloud, splashing myself with another handful of water. The droplets trickle down my cheek, pooling under my chin.
"What about the Scarlet Prince?" From the tone of his voice, I can tell he is getting more and more frustrated. I'm being coy with him, and deliberately so. But the guilt of the situation knaws at my insides, and all at once I feel afraid to tell him anything at all. His pacing footsteps ring around the room, soft thuds running back and forth across the floor boards. Pat pat pat. I turn the tap off, and begin pulling on my clothes restlessly, fumbling at the buttons on my shirt. My fingers shake.
"He, um, seems to like me. Which sort of messed up the plan of being discreet. So I went with it, because I thought maybe I could use him to help me. Maybe I got a bit too carried away, and there was this other vampire who glamoured me to try and take off my clothes and..." I swallow, choking back a rising sob. "Oh heavens." I stumble back out into the living room, gnawing at my cheek with nervous fervour, my fingers tearing shakily at my cuffs. It seems almost stupid that my body decided now is the time to start panicking- that out of everything that happened today this is what makes me crack. Pitiful. My legs shake beneath me. My arms feel like limp, wobbly noodles, and my teeth clamp down so hard on my cheek that I nearly draw blood. My knees feel like they are going to give out beneath me. The room spins. Then a sick feeling rocks through my body- terrible, so terrible in fact that as soon as Ithuriel catches sight of me his hair goes white with shock.
"Hey," he whispers quietly, rushing to my side, drawing his wings protectively around me. His hand grip onto the upper portion of my arm, holding me steady. The angel's eyes soften and he leans his chin on the top of my head, drawing soothing circles on the top of my back. "Hey, hey, hey, shhh, it's okay. Calm down, Serena, everything is going to be fine," he murmurs, and I breathe in shakily, taking in the warmth of his skin and the sweet smell of pine and elderberry. Ithuriel is using his magic, I know he his. I can feel it in the unnatural sense of calm washes over me, flooding my brain with emptiness until all that's left is a blissful nothing. But I sink into it, my limbs too tired to fight. My heart feels devoid of its usual vivacity, as though my blood wasn't the only thing Soren had sucked out of me.
Ithuriel stays silent for a moment, thinking, his wings wrapping more tightly around me, as if scared I might suddenly collapse before him.
"I'm okay, Ithuriel, really. It's just been a strange day," I tell him, straining to hide the shakiness of my voice as I bring up my sleeve to wipe my eyes. Ithuriel draws back, lips pursed and as silent as ever. He looks me up and down accusingly.
"Come on," he murmurs, deciding it best to guide me into one of the two armchairs. The chair squeaks as I sit down, sinking into the pillowy cushioned fabric, tucking my legs to one side. Absently, I bring my hands up to touch the pendant at my throat, the metal cold beneath my fingers. I shiver. A part of me wonders briefly about taking it off and just for a bit feeling the stretch of my wings splaying behind me, to feel a breeze in my feathers once more. A silly idea. I drop the pendant.
"I've got to win his favour, Ithuriel. I've got to earn his trust." I say, splaying my hands out in front of me, half out of exasperation. Ithuriel lowers himself into the opposite armchair, wings draped awkwardly over the sides as he runs a hand through his blue fading hair, sighing.
"I fear you may be right. If it is as you say, and the Scarlet Prince is taken with you, then perhaps the best thing to do is to use that to our advantage." He pauses for a moment, scratching his chin, pondering. All at once he becomes very serious.
"You must be very careful, Serena. He is a vampire, no matter what you do, you must not let yourself fall for his trap. The Scarlet Prince is the worst of all vampires, he is as much as charming Prince as he is a mendacious, coldblooded killer. You would do well to remember that you could be his next victim just as easily as I.. Tread carefully."
The tower heaves. I pause for a moment, waiting for the tumble of boxes which I decide after a few moments, will not come. The box is open ajar, and much to my relief the lid swings up to reveal soft reams of fabric and cotton clothes. I sigh shakily, running a hand over my head. Thank goodness. Blindly I pick out a beige button up top and some soft matching bottoms, slinging them over my shoulder as Ithuriel's reply hits my ears. "It's only for a bit. Besides, that wasn't the question," he tuts, a little annoyed but not angry as he rounds into the main room, his hair wet and tainted light green, a golden robe tied loosely around his body, held in place by a thick, ropey belt. His face is pale, the bear paw tattoo stark against his skin, rippling against the look of worry that passes over him. He folds his arms over himself- the way he does when he is exasperated with me, wings tucking in neatly behind him. The sight of his wings throws me off a little. Part of me had become so used to seeing horns and fangs it almost didn't seem natural anymore. I frown to myself. "So I messed up a little, " I tell him, pushing past him as I move towards the bathroom, almost tripping over my boots as I do. Ithuriel watches me as I go, eyebrows raised, a heavy look of judgement adorning his face. My stomach churns guiltily. "Messed up how?" Ithuriel says slowly, and I hear his foot tapping against the floorboards as I throw off my dress into the long marble bathtub, turning on the sink tap, hot water gushing out in heavy streams. Not a single ounce of me can be bothered to take a bath. Baths take too long, and I am too tired, I confirm to myself, as if I needed any more convincing. Viscously grabbing a bar of soap, I decide the best thing to do is to at least get the stench of iron out my skin. There is nothing quite as revolting as rancid blood. I start rinsing myself off, water streaming through my cupped hands as I scrub vigorously down my face, chest, arms, scraping off the blood from under my fingernails with revolt. I hold back vomit. My reflection is pale and pasty in the mirror, my eyes a little too wild, my lips slightly swollen and a little more red than usual. I look like a mess, I breathe heavily to myself, breath fogging up the glass with my disgust. "The Scarlet Prince," I say aloud, splashing myself with another handful of water. The droplets trickle down my cheek, pooling under my chin. "What about the Scarlet Prince?" From the tone of his voice, I can tell he is getting more and more frustrated. I'm being coy with him, and deliberately so. But the guilt of the situation knaws at my insides, and all at once I feel afraid to tell him anything at all. His pacing footsteps ring around the room, soft thuds running back and forth across the floor boards. Pat pat pat. I turn the tap off, and begin pulling on my clothes restlessly, fumbling at the buttons on my shirt. My fingers shake. "He, um, seems to like me. Which sort of messed up the plan of being discreet. So I went with it, because I thought maybe I could use him to help me. Maybe I got a bit too carried away, and there was this other vampire who glamoured me to try and take off my clothes and..." I swallow, choking back a rising sob. "Oh heavens." I stumble back out into the living room, gnawing at my cheek with nervous fervour, my fingers tearing shakily at my cuffs. It seems almost stupid that my body decided now is the time to start panicking- that out of everything that happened today this is what makes me crack. Pitiful. My legs shake beneath me. My arms feel like limp, wobbly noodles, and my teeth clamp down so hard on my cheek that I nearly draw blood. My knees feel like they are going to give out beneath me. The room spins. Then a sick feeling rocks through my body- terrible, so terrible in fact that as soon as Ithuriel catches sight of me his hair goes white with shock. "Hey," he whispers quietly, rushing to my side, drawing his wings protectively around me. His hand grip onto the upper portion of my arm, holding me steady. The angel's eyes soften and he leans his chin on the top of my head, drawing soothing circles on the top of my back. "Hey, hey, hey, shhh, it's okay. Calm down, Serena, everything is going to be fine," he murmurs, and I breathe in shakily, taking in the warmth of his skin and the sweet smell of pine and elderberry. Ithuriel is using his magic, I know he his. I can feel it in the unnatural sense of calm washes over me, flooding my brain with emptiness until all that's left is a blissful nothing. But I sink into it, my limbs too tired to fight. My heart feels devoid of its usual vivacity, as though my blood wasn't the only thing Soren had sucked out of me. Ithuriel stays silent for a moment, thinking, his wings wrapping more tightly around me, as if scared I might suddenly collapse before him. "I'm okay, Ithuriel, really. It's just been a strange day," I tell him, straining to hide the shakiness of my voice as I bring up my sleeve to wipe my eyes. Ithuriel draws back, lips pursed and as silent as ever. He looks me up and down accusingly. "Come on," he murmurs, deciding it best to guide me into one of the two armchairs. The chair squeaks as I sit down, sinking into the pillowy cushioned fabric, tucking my legs to one side. Absently, I bring my hands up to touch the pendant at my throat, the metal cold beneath my fingers. I shiver. A part of me wonders briefly about taking it off and just for a bit feeling the stretch of my wings splaying behind me, to feel a breeze in my feathers once more. A silly idea. I drop the pendant. "I've got to win his favour, Ithuriel. I've got to earn his trust." I say, splaying my hands out in front of me, half out of exasperation. Ithuriel lowers himself into the opposite armchair, wings draped awkwardly over the sides as he runs a hand through his blue fading hair, sighing. "I fear you may be right. If it is as you say, and the Scarlet Prince is taken with you, then perhaps the best thing to do is to use that to our advantage." He pauses for a moment, scratching his chin, pondering. All at once he becomes very serious. "You must be very careful, Serena. He is a vampire, no matter what you do, you must not let yourself fall for his trap. The Scarlet Prince is the worst of all vampires, he is as much as charming Prince as he is a mendacious, coldblooded killer. You would do well to remember that you could be his next victim just as easily as I.. Tread carefully."
