Chapter 50: 50
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Ithuriel levies himself on his hind legs and bats the book, urging me to stop reading. I look down into his two toned eyes, studying him. His fluffy white tail twitches.
It has what you need. He insists in my mind, and that is all. I close the book. Ithuriel had never been wrong before, in all the time I knew him, he hadn't tripped me up before, and this time is no different. At least that is what I hope as I nod to myself, turning the books over in my hands, weighing them, and then nodding again.
"It's a start," I say aloud, and all at once the pendant around my neck begins to warm, throbbing against its confines, blood swirling in its glass seal. The hair on my neck prickles. Ithuriel growls.
"Good morning, Serena," a cold voice drawls next to my ear. "And what fascinating books have you got there?" A chilled air sweeps over me and my body breaks out in a cold sweat. Something whispers at the back of my mind, a voice lingering from the shadows:
Hide them.
I sweep my hand over the books, a small flurry of sparks dancing off the tips on my fingers and spiralling into empty air. Desperately hoping that the glow of yellow sparks is small enough not to catch any unwanted attention, I pivot myself on my heels, twisting around as casually as possible.
"Hello, Azrael," I return coolly, straining to keep the shakiness out of my voice. The sight of the tall, slender vampire agitates my senses. Ever since I first met him, there had always been something uneasy about him, the ways he speaks, the oddly casual manner of his stance, the way he looks at you, as though deciding if you would look better against him, or inside his mouth.
Every slight of his hand, every cold breath that pricks the air, every long cruel smile is enough to send a wave shivers down my spine.
You are the queen of the angels, I remind myself firmly. You are more than this.
I stand up taller.
"I thought I might take up a bit of early morning reading about flowers, since you have some unusual varieties here in Sezeria." Azrael pulls down his red velvety waistcoat and flicks up an eyebrow, inspecting the books that I had hurriedly enchanted to say:
'A Sezerian guide to flowers and The magical properties of plants.'
In the timeframe of my casting, even with the experience I have gained over my years in training as a divinist, it is a shoddy job. I pray he doesn't look too closely at each one, for fear that he might see through it. I grip the books harder to stop my hands from shaking.
"Fascinating," he says finally monotonously, and pulls back, sighing in a way that makes it clear he doesn't find it fascinating at all. I let out a small breath. Ithuriel's fluffy tail curls protectively around my legs, and I tuck the books back under my arm, wiping my hands down my thighs discreetly.
"You are like my brother, he planted all the rose gardens in Sezeria. A waste of time, if you ask me." I glance over at his attempt to make idle conversation. He leans back against a shelf casually, carelessly, dangling the baited question before me.
"Why would he do that?" I ask, the words forming on my tongue before I can even process them. Azrael gives me a sharp look, followed by a pointed grin. Ithuriel's hackles raise, and a low growl rips from his throat, eyes fixed on Azrael's long, sharp nails. I shift my body over a bit, shielding the fox from view.
"Soren likes to hold a rose by its thorns. Perhaps you should ask him why," the vampire says finally, running a hand through his hair with yet another sigh.
Stupid vampires and their stupid riddles, I think despairingly to myself, but make a mental note to ask Soren anyway.
"Well have fun reading, little girl," he says, waving a hand over his shoulder. "See you around- or not," he adds, and vanishes into the shadows. Gradually, I let out a long breath that I hadn't realised I had been holding in. I wipe my brow.
"Come on Ithuriel, lets go,"
***
The more I read, the more the dread grows. First like a small pit in the bottom of my stomach, and then, a huge gaping hole, swallowing me up from the inside out.
"Souls," I say aloud. From being pent up reading for so long, my voice sounds almost startling as it leaves my lips. Ithuriel, who has since strewn himself across the long furry carpet, echoes my words:
"Souls." He confirms. I flick through more pages in the third chapter of The five souls of power, the chapter of 'the mind soul'. My vision blurs as I look at it, each page merging into the next. Ithuriel had been right, of course- this had been exactly the book I needed. But it hadn't told me the answer I had been searching for, not exactly. It had told me about the psyche tractatori, but not a vampire, instead, a soul. One single soul. And Azrael -somehow- has it.
My luck really must be awful.
"This is hurting my brain," I admit at last, throwing the book down defeatedly. Carefully, Ithuriel rolls over and scoops up the book, closing his hand over it with a long steady breath.
"I don't understand much either. I have never heard about souls containing specific magic power, it must be ancient magic. Nor have I ever heard about psyche tractatori either. I say we treat him as a normal vampire for the minute, forget about the soul business, so long as he can be warded off, then that's all we need to know." Ithuriel flicks his gaze up to me for a second, lingering on my pendant.
"The book talks about making amulets out of the soul host's blood which would prevent them from using their powers against you, but I don't feel like that is going to be happening any time soon. We need another way."
Reluctantly, I nod my head. Azrael, as it stands, is the biggest threat to my staying at the palace. With him around, my mind, my thoughts, nothing about me is safe. He would need to be dealt with first. Soren, on the other hand, while a tyrant and a menace in his own rights, cannot mess with my mind as he choses. So long as I can keep him in my favour, then I am (relatively speaking, for living in a palace full of bloodthirsty vampires), safe.
"Thistleweed and renolsbane," Ithuriel voice utters above me, jerking me out of my trance.
"What?" I say, jolting upright, rubbing away the water that has begun to form in my stinging eyes. He shuffles over to perch on the side of my armchair, and hands over a scrap of paper, worn and yellowed from time....
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Ithuriel levies himself on his hind legs and bats the book, urging me to stop reading. I look down into his two toned eyes, studying him. His fluffy white tail twitches.
It has what you need. He insists in my mind, and that is all. I close the book. Ithuriel had never been wrong before, in all the time I knew him, he hadn't tripped me up before, and this time is no different. At least that is what I hope as I nod to myself, turning the books over in my hands, weighing them, and then nodding again.
"It's a start," I say aloud, and all at once the pendant around my neck begins to warm, throbbing against its confines, blood swirling in its glass seal. The hair on my neck prickles. Ithuriel growls.
"Good morning, Serena," a cold voice drawls next to my ear. "And what fascinating books have you got there?" A chilled air sweeps over me and my body breaks out in a cold sweat. Something whispers at the back of my mind, a voice lingering from the shadows:
Hide them.
I sweep my hand over the books, a small flurry of sparks dancing off the tips on my fingers and spiralling into empty air. Desperately hoping that the glow of yellow sparks is small enough not to catch any unwanted attention, I pivot myself on my heels, twisting around as casually as possible.
"Hello, Azrael," I return coolly, straining to keep the shakiness out of my voice. The sight of the tall, slender vampire agitates my senses. Ever since I first met him, there had always been something uneasy about him, the ways he speaks, the oddly casual manner of his stance, the way he looks at you, as though deciding if you would look better against him, or inside his mouth.
Every slight of his hand, every cold breath that pricks the air, every long cruel smile is enough to send a wave shivers down my spine.
You are the queen of the angels, I remind myself firmly. You are more than this.
I stand up taller.
"I thought I might take up a bit of early morning reading about flowers, since you have some unusual varieties here in Sezeria." Azrael pulls down his red velvety waistcoat and flicks up an eyebrow, inspecting the books that I had hurriedly enchanted to say:
'A Sezerian guide to flowers and The magical properties of plants.'
In the timeframe of my casting, even with the experience I have gained over my years in training as a divinist, it is a shoddy job. I pray he doesn't look too closely at each one, for fear that he might see through it. I grip the books harder to stop my hands from shaking.
"Fascinating," he says finally monotonously, and pulls back, sighing in a way that makes it clear he doesn't find it fascinating at all. I let out a small breath. Ithuriel's fluffy tail curls protectively around my legs, and I tuck the books back under my arm, wiping my hands down my thighs discreetly.
"You are like my brother, he planted all the rose gardens in Sezeria. A waste of time, if you ask me." I glance over at his attempt to make idle conversation. He leans back against a shelf casually, carelessly, dangling the baited question before me.
"Why would he do that?" I ask, the words forming on my tongue before I can even process them. Azrael gives me a sharp look, followed by a pointed grin. Ithuriel's hackles raise, and a low growl rips from his throat, eyes fixed on Azrael's long, sharp nails. I shift my body over a bit, shielding the fox from view.
"Soren likes to hold a rose by its thorns. Perhaps you should ask him why," the vampire says finally, running a hand through his hair with yet another sigh.
Stupid vampires and their stupid riddles, I think despairingly to myself, but make a mental note to ask Soren anyway.
"Well have fun reading, little girl," he says, waving a hand over his shoulder. "See you around- or not," he adds, and vanishes into the shadows. Gradually, I let out a long breath that I hadn't realised I had been holding in. I wipe my brow.
"Come on Ithuriel, lets go,"
***
The more I read, the more the dread grows. First like a small pit in the bottom of my stomach, and then, a huge gaping hole, swallowing me up from the inside out.
"Souls," I say aloud. From being pent up reading for so long, my voice sounds almost startling as it leaves my lips. Ithuriel, who has since strewn himself across the long furry carpet, echoes my words:
"Souls." He confirms. I flick through more pages in the third chapter of The five souls of power, the chapter of 'the mind soul'. My vision blurs as I look at it, each page merging into the next. Ithuriel had been right, of course- this had been exactly the book I needed. But it hadn't told me the answer I had been searching for, not exactly. It had told me about the psyche tractatori, but not a vampire, instead, a soul. One single soul. And Azrael -somehow- has it.
My luck really must be awful.
"This is hurting my brain," I admit at last, throwing the book down defeatedly. Carefully, Ithuriel rolls over and scoops up the book, closing his hand over it with a long steady breath.
"I don't understand much either. I have never heard about souls containing specific magic power, it must be ancient magic. Nor have I ever heard about psyche tractatori either. I say we treat him as a normal vampire for the minute, forget about the soul business, so long as he can be warded off, then that's all we need to know." Ithuriel flicks his gaze up to me for a second, lingering on my pendant.
"The book talks about making amulets out of the soul host's blood which would prevent them from using their powers against you, but I don't feel like that is going to be happening any time soon. We need another way."
Reluctantly, I nod my head. Azrael, as it stands, is the biggest threat to my staying at the palace. With him around, my mind, my thoughts, nothing about me is safe. He would need to be dealt with first. Soren, on the other hand, while a tyrant and a menace in his own rights, cannot mess with my mind as he choses. So long as I can keep him in my favour, then I am (relatively speaking, for living in a palace full of bloodthirsty vampires), safe.
"Thistleweed and renolsbane," Ithuriel voice utters above me, jerking me out of my trance.
"What?" I say, jolting upright, rubbing away the water that has begun to form in my stinging eyes. He shuffles over to perch on the side of my armchair, and hands over a scrap of paper, worn and yellowed from time....
Ithuriel levies himself on his hind legs and bats the book, urging me to stop reading. I look down into his two toned eyes, studying him. His fluffy white tail twitches.It has what you need. He insists in my mind, and that is all. I close the book. Ithuriel had never been wrong before, in all the time I knew him, he hadn't tripped me up before, and this time is no different. At least that is what I hope as I nod to myself, turning the books over in my hands, weighing them, and then nodding again."It's a start," I say aloud, and all at once the pendant around my neck begins to warm, throbbing against its confines, blood swirling in its glass seal. The hair on my neck prickles. Ithuriel growls."Good morning, Serena," a cold voice drawls next to my ear. "And what fascinating books have you got there?" A chilled air sweeps over me and my body breaks out in a cold sweat. Something whispers at the back of my mind, a voice lingering from the shadows:Hide them.I sweep my hand over the books, a small flurry of sparks dancing off the tips on my fingers and spiralling into empty air. Desperately hoping that the glow of yellow sparks is small enough not to catch any unwanted attention, I pivot myself on my heels, twisting around as casually as possible."Hello, Azrael," I return coolly, straining to keep the shakiness out of my voice. The sight of the tall, slender vampire agitates my senses. Ever since I first met him, there had always been something uneasy about him, the ways he speaks, the oddly casual manner of his stance, the way he looks at you, as though deciding if you would look better against him, or inside his mouth. Every slight of his hand, every cold breath that pricks the air, every long cruel smile is enough to send a wave shivers down my spine.You are the queen of the angels, I remind myself firmly. You are more than this.I stand up taller."I thought I might take up a bit of early morning reading about flowers, since you have some unusual varieties here in Sezeria." Azrael pulls down his red velvety waistcoat and flicks up an eyebrow, inspecting the books that I had hurriedly enchanted to say:'A Sezerian guide to flowers and The magical properties of plants.' In the timeframe of my casting, even with the experience I have gained over my years in training as a divinist, it is a shoddy job. I pray he doesn't look too closely at each one, for fear that he might see through it. I grip the books harder to stop my hands from shaking."Fascinating," he says finally monotonously, and pulls back, sighing in a way that makes it clear he doesn't find it fascinating at all. I let out a small breath. Ithuriel's fluffy tail curls protectively around my legs, and I tuck the books back under my arm, wiping my hands down my thighs discreetly."You are like my brother, he planted all the rose gardens in Sezeria. A waste of time, if you ask me." I glance over at his attempt to make idle conversation. He leans back against a shelf casually, carelessly, dangling the baited question before me."Why would he do that?" I ask, the words forming on my tongue before I can even process them. Azrael gives me a sharp look, followed by a pointed grin. Ithuriel's hackles raise, and a low growl rips from his throat, eyes fixed on Azrael's long, sharp nails. I shift my body over a bit, shielding the fox from view."Soren likes to hold a rose by its thorns. Perhaps you should ask him why," the vampire says finally, running a hand through his hair with yet another sigh.Stupid vampires and their stupid riddles, I think despairingly to myself, but make a mental note to ask Soren anyway."Well have fun reading, little girl," he says, waving a hand over his shoulder. "See you around- or not," he adds, and vanishes into the shadows. Gradually, I let out a long breath that I hadn't realised I had been holding in. I wipe my brow."Come on Ithuriel, lets go,"***The more I read, the more the dread grows. First like a small pit in the bottom of my stomach, and then, a huge gaping hole, swallowing me up from the inside out."Souls," I say aloud. From being pent up reading for so long, my voice sounds almost startling as it leaves my lips. Ithuriel, who has since strewn himself across the long furry carpet, echoes my words:"Souls." He confirms. I flick through more pages in the third chapter of The five souls of power, the chapter of 'the mind soul'. My vision blurs as I look at it, each page merging into the next. Ithuriel had been right, of course- this had been exactly the book I needed. But it hadn't told me the answer I had been searching for, not exactly. It had told me about the psyche tractatori, but not a vampire, instead, a soul. One single soul. And Azrael -somehow- has it.My luck really must be awful."This is hurting my brain," I admit at last, throwing the book down defeatedly. Carefully, Ithuriel rolls over and scoops up the book, closing his hand over it with a long steady breath."I don't understand much either. I have never heard about souls containing specific magic power, it must be ancient magic. Nor have I ever heard about psyche tractatori either. I say we treat him as a normal vampire for the minute, forget about the soul business, so long as he can be warded off, then that's all we need to know." Ithuriel flicks his gaze up to me for a second, lingering on my pendant."The book talks about making amulets out of the soul host's blood which would prevent them from using their powers against you, but I don't feel like that is going to be happening any time soon. We need another way." Reluctantly, I nod my head. Azrael, as it stands, is the biggest threat to my staying at the palace. With him around, my mind, my thoughts, nothing about me is safe. He would need to be dealt with first. Soren, on the other hand, while a tyrant and a menace in his own rights, cannot mess with my mind as he choses. So long as I can keep him in my favour, then I am relatively speaking, for living in a palace full of bloodthirsty vampires, safe."Thistleweed and renolsbane," Ithuriel voice utters above me, jerking me out of my trance."What?" I say, jolting upright, rubbing away the water that has begun to form in my stinging eyes. He shuffles over to perch on the side of my armchair, and hands over a scrap of paper, worn and yellowed from time....
