Helena ascended the stairs, following the child into one of the bedrooms. Cullodena ran to the small dresser. She pulled open the middle drawer and lifted a plain jewellery box out.
“Sit on the bed with me,” Cullodena said.
Helena didn’t argue. She joined her on the bed and waited for the girl to explain what she was doing with the jewellery box.
“Every family has a sacred item. Generations of witches put their energy into the chosen relic every day prior to their passing.” Cullodena opened the box. She removed the velvet material wrapped around the object and picked it up with her small fingers. “This is our family’s relic. We call it Oculus Amoralis. It can show you a vision of the one you love most in your heart or the one you seek with great need.” She placed the round see-through crystal the size of a pool ball in Helena’s hand. “You should keep it.”
“I can’t take something like this. It’s been in your family for generations…”
“You have given me the grimoire of your family line. We of Wiccan blood believe in equal trade. If one receives something, one must sacrifice something of equal value.”
“I didn’t know that,” Helena said.
Cullodena gave her a sad smile. Her gem-like eyes reflected wisdom beyond her age. “I have no use for this object anymore. The only person I cared about was my mum. My father died when I was four, so there is no one I look for. But you…” She smiled knowingly. “You have someone you hold dear, don’t you?”
“How did you know?” Helena whispered.
The little girl let out a giggle. “I may look like a kid, but Mum taught me magic since I was old enough to talk.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I have much to learn in my lifetime to lead this Circle. They are forced to entrust every decision to me. I feel sorry for them sometimes.”
Helena took Cullodena’s hand, patting it gently. “Don’t you want to be a normal kid and have fun?”
“Kids my age won’t understand me, much like humans can no longer relate to you. Once you are part of the dark world, you cannot return to normal. We can only accept it and move on.”
For the first time in weeks, Helena felt the pain and the horrors from the Demon Realm slipping away. This little girl was wiser than some of the adults she had met.
“You know, when I was your age, I complained about not being able to commandeer the swings or watch TV past midnight,” Helena said.
Cullodena slid off the bed and took the relic out of Helena’s hand. She wrapped it in velvet then carefully placed it in the jewellery box. “Oculus Amoralis is yours, Miss Hawthorn. I believe that sometime in the future we will meet again.” Giving one final wave to Helena, the child left the room to attend to the guests.
Helena stashed the box into her handbag. “This dark world sure is hard to wrap my head around.”
They left the house soon after. Helena could feel the animosity in the air, even though no one else dared to voice their negative opinions. Madeline’s daughter was right. She had no choice but to accept the world she was in. It was either that or wading blindly through her daily life till she wound up dead somewhere. Her thoughts returned to Vincent and his request. He was not the kind to ask anything of her, and, since he did, maybe he needed her help with something.
From the backseat of the car, Helena said, “Let’s head to Vincent’s.”
Their eyes met in the rear-view mirror, and Andrew frowned. “Earlier you didn’t want anything to do with his request.”
“I changed my mind.”
Orlaith piped in, “I will contact the hotel and check out for you, Mr Keane. Where would you like your luggage to be delivered to?”
Helena veiled her eyes with the palm of her hand and let them discuss the details.
“Wake up. We’re here,” someone said shaking her awake.
Helena covered her mouth and let a prolonged yawn escape. She found Andrew’s face being so close, she could see the tiny silver flecks in his forest-green eyes that were almost black in the car’s shadows.
“I can’t get out if you don’t,” she said.
He smirked and inched closer. “What? Am I making you nervous?”
“I swear I will kick you if you don’t get a move on.”
“Ever since you became friendly with the hunters, you’ve become so violent, Thorn.” He tutted as he drew away.
Rolling her eyes, Helena scrambled into a sitting position. They had arrived at Vincent’s castle. A shudder ran through her when she remembered the last time she was here. Memories she wished her brain would forever discard and hide under a boulder or two.
The heavy front door opened, and Perri’s arms were wound around Helena faster than she could say ‘hello’. The impact of their bodies colliding almost sent them tumbling backwards into the car. Luckily, Helena managed to grab the door to keep her on her feet.
“I have missed you so much,” Perri cried into her shoulder. “When I heard what happened to Lady Madeline, I couldn’t stop crying. She was such a nice person.”
Helena wrapped her arms around Perri’s quivering form. She buried her face in Perri’s neck and enjoyed the warmth of a friend for a minute.
Perri ushered them into Vincent’s home. “Master Vincent will see you both for breakfast in the dining hall.” She led the way to the grand staircase. At the top of it, she paused and looked at Andrew. “Are you Andrew?”
“I am,” he replied.
Perri raised a brow and assessed Orlaith. “Are you two going to stay in the same room?”
Andrew’s eyes bulged as he raised his hands in defence, and Orlaith turned bright red under her perfect layer of makeup.
“Different rooms then,” Perri said nonchalantly.
Helena made a mental note to thank Perri for her colourful humour. She had missed spending time with Vincent’s maid. Perri was someone Helena could talk to without any barriers.
The maid guided Orlaith and Andrew to separate rooms first. When it came to Helena’s, she had a bad feeling she would spend her nights in the same room as last time. And, when Perri came to a stop in front of that cursed room, Helena’s face fell.
“You don’t want to stay here?” Perri inquired.
“After what happened here last time, I’d rather not.”
Perri took her hand and marched Helena into the room next to it. As far as Helena remembered, this was Perri’s bedroom. She scanned the simple décor of an embossed teal and silver wallpaper and white furniture. Her double bed sat in the middle of the room with baby pink sheets.
“You look disappointed,” Perri said.
Helena grinned. “I expected pictures of Hans everywhere for some reason.”
Perri laughed. “I keep him in my memory and heart. That’s all that matters.” She paused to take Helena’s attire in and ambled to the dresser, returning with a set of pink pyjamas. “Here, try them on.”
Helena grimaced. “I’m not a fan of pink.”
“And I’m not a fan of funeral clothing. So, please try them on.”
After accepting the clothes, Helena changed in the bathroom. She joined Perri, who wore a matching set of blue pyjamas, on the bed and bounced on the spot with excitement.
“How is it going with Lucious?”
Helena shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “I don’t know. We’ve not talked in over two weeks.”
“Can you not contact him through that link of yours?”
Helena traced the flower patterns on the bedsheets. “He’s blocking me out. No matter how hard I try, he never responds.”
“I’m certain he has his reasons.”
“If he doesn’t, I’m going to track him down and shoot him full of silver bullets myself.” Helena grasped the bed sheets, crumpling them between her fingers.
Perri tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you alright? That’s not something you would usually do.”
Helena blinked away the bloody images. Perri was right. This wasn’t like her. Then again, what was like h
er? Her head started to pound, so she massaged her temples.
“I’m going to get some sleep,” Helena said.
“That’s a good idea. Get some rest. I have three hours before I have to go to work. I will try not to disturb you.”
Helena climbed under the soft quilt and relaxed. Once she rolled away from her friend, she closed her eyes. “Hey, Perri…”
“Yes?”
“Are you afraid of what the future might bring?”
Perri was silent for a long time as she climbed in after Helena. The lights blinked off, and the room became shrouded with darkness.
“I’m not afraid of the future. I’m afraid of people who control it.”
2
Saved By A Werewolf
One week ago,
Life was not fair. Lucious knew that with every fibre of his being. It was why he fled to the outskirts of London first, arriving in Harlow. He could not stay long. With every step, his teeth ground together as the silver bullets singed the muscles they grazed against. It took a week for the wounds to stop bleeding from numerous bullet wounds. He never did find the time to remove the cursed things.
With the hunters tracking his location, he had no time to lose. He scanned the buildings along the A414. Beyond a fragile-looking wooden fence were a handful of shops next to a barn.
He climbed the fence with an audible groan as searing pain exploded in his thigh. Once his feet touched the ground, the worn out heels of his shoes sank into the grassy patch. To find balance, he spread out his arms and mumbled a curse. The muscles in his chest pulled apart a healing wound.
He edged closer to the shops, stopping at the one-storey veterinary clinic by the roadside. Closing his eyes, Lucious listened for any heartbeats. Two steady human pulses and four faster ones, he counted. They were far enough away to not hear him breaking into the building. There was no alarm either.
It will have to suffice. Lucious placed his bloody palm against the glass and pushed it in. The pane gave way and shattered. The shards spilt onto the linoleum, and he reached through the door, unlocking it with the flick of the lock. The door creaked open, and he wandered inside, scanning for possible entry points and exits in case he had to make a quick getaway.
Lucious passed the reception desk on his left. He followed the corridor, smelling the antiseptic and animal food. The dogs kept indoors must have heard him come in because their excited barks echoed from the room at the end of the corridor.
Concentrating past the noise, he entered the examination room. He turned on the lights, letting the halogen bulb blink awake. A rectangular metal table and a cupboard with medical supplies were pushed against the wall to his right. The smell of ethanol intensified, and he rummaged through the cupboard. He found a scalpel, bandages, needle, thread, and some antiseptic. After placing the items on the table, he shrugged out of his shirt.
His hand shook as he took the scalpel. With the free hand, he felt the skin right below his collarbone. There was no choice. He had to do it. He cut the skin with the blade. Blood rushed to the surface and tiny red rivers ran down his chest. He held on to the table and forced his fingers into the open wound.
A burning metal object brushed his fingertips. He extracted the bullet with a quivering jerk and let it fall onto the table, leaving a trail of crimson droplets behind. In the same manner, he continued to take the bullets out, one by one, until his vision doubled. With the final bullet extracted, he collapsed to his knees and shook his head in an attempt to reclaim some sight from the darkness that ate away at his ability to see.
Minutes passed. Sweat mixed with blood on his chest, and he frowned. He hadn’t shed a drop of sweat since his mortal years. Lucious wiped away the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand and gripped the edge of the table for support. On his weak legs, he pulled himself up, which took more effort than he anticipated.
Past the ringing in his ears, he noted the dogs’ excitement as they let out more happy barks.
They’re here.
Wasting no more time, he grabbed the supplies off the table, stuffing them into his pockets. He jumped through the window and ran across the empty road. Behind him, he heard booted feet following. Unable to use his vampire speed, he clung to the hope that a couple more steps would save him.
Just a few more.
A silver bullet pierced his shoulder. The force of it was enough to make him stumble. Lucious cried out and tumbled face first into the dirt. With much effort, he raised his head and gazed at the stormy sky above. An image of Helena’s sorrowful expression filled his mind as footsteps gained on him. He closed his eyes to see her better and used whatever energy he had left to maintain his shields. This was his problem. He would not let her suffer his pain because of it.
The soft scent of flowers filled his nostrils—her scent.
“Are you done dying, mate? We’ve got to get going,” a man with a familiar gravelly voice asked.
Lucious’ eyes flew open, and he faced the man in question. “What are you doing here, Byron?”
The werewolf chuckled and offered Lucious his hand. “Alexander said your ass might need saving. So, here I am, saving it.”
“The hunters. They were close.”
“Inexperienced two, otherwise, you’d be dead. More are possibly on the way. I took one out as he left the clinic and the second one when she ran after you with her gun.”
Lucious didn’t move. Byron grasped him by the arm and lifted him into a standing position. It was hard to stay balanced on his feet. But, he would be damned if he seemed weak in front of this dog. At the same time, he knew his pathetic attempts were nothing more than entertainment to the man.
Byron grinned and draped Lucious’ aching arm over his shoulders. He captured Lucious by the side, and they slowly made their way back towards the road.
“A few more minutes and you’d be dust,” Byron said smugly.
“Am I supposed to thank you for saving me?” Lucious spat out.
A deep chuckle escaped Byron. “Nah, it would be best if you don’t. Don’t want a repeat of the past.”
“Leave me here. I will be fine once I feed.”
“The sun will rise soon, you old bat. You’d be knocked out before you bleed to death.”
Lucious gritted his teeth as pain crippled his spine. His legs caved in, and he welcomed the image of Helena as she wrapped her body around his.
Sitting on an old mattress, which had a distinct stench of mould infused with it, Lucious scanned the room. The drawn frilly pink curtains kept the sun’s seeking rays at bay. He glanced at his bandaged chest and frowned at his last memory.
There was no way on this godforsaken earth he would remain where Byron was. That man was too much to handle, especially in Lucious’ present state.
The door creaked open, and the Devil himself strode into the room, almost touching the doorframe with the tips of his gelled brown spikes.
“You’re up earlier than I thought, mate,” Byron said. A smile tugged at his lips, but Lucious saw past that. The werewolf’s silver eyes reflected curiosity and interest Lucious had no wish to satisfy.
Lucious slid off the bed. “Why didn’t Alexander tell me you two kept in touch?”
Byron sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. His body was larger than Lucious remembered by thirty pounds of muscle. The werewolf remained an intimidating sight with his six-foot-five build. Lucious kept his distance.
“Because he knew you would throw a hissy fit?”
Unamused, Lucious glared at him.
Byron’s expression grew serious. “I believe the matter we should be discussing here is why your eyes are red. I don’t recall hearing you were nearing a descent when Alexander asked me to locate you after the hunters swarmed the cemetery.”
“I’m not nearing a descent,” Lucious retorted. “I simply need to feed.”
“Doesn’t that stuff make your situation worse?”
“I do not have time to explain every little detail to you. After al
l, you have omitted the fact I was walking into a trap when it was convenient for you.”
Byron rolled his eyes and started for the door. His hand rested on the doorknob as he spoke, “That was four years ago. I was hoping you would forget about it by now.”
“I assure you, that is not something I will forget anytime soon.”
Byron swung the door open. “I’ll be in the kitchen. I bought some animal blood from the butchers. It might help with your…condition.”
Closing his eyes was the only thing Lucious could do to stop from attacking the man who saved his life. He counted to ten, each number more drawn out than the last. The door finally closed and Byron’s heavy footsteps descended the stairs outside the room.
Lucious placed his palm on his chest as he pressed his back against the wall. It was not an illusion. The heartbeat in his ribcage sped up as the months went by. The soul-link he and Helena shared made him feel alive. As he rubbed his face, a beard prickled his fingers, and he stared at his palm mesmerised. Since his rebirth as a vampire, not once had he grown a full beard.
With wide eyes, he made his way out of the room in search of a mirror. The door to the bathroom was ajar, and he burst in. His hands wrapped around the sides of the sink as he stared at his reflection. Ignoring the bloodshot eyes, he stood amazed. Raven hair brushed his shoulders as if he had not cut it in half a century and a beard he never thought he would see again ran from ear to ear.
“This is not possible.” He combed his fingers through his hair, making certain what he saw was real.
“You must be Daddy’s friend, Mr Swiss,” a delicate voice to his left said, bringing his attention back to his surroundings.
In the doorway stood a little girl no older than four or five with two blonde pigtails tied atop of her head. She tilted her head to one side, obviously awaiting his response.
Lucious cleared his throat. He didn’t expect Byron to have a child. If this was his daughter, then it may explain the events of that night better. Yet, the betrayal stung. “My name is Lucious, not Mr Swiss. And you are?”
Crumbling Control (Helena Hawthorn Series Book 3) Page 2