Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Retla ❯ Chapter 1: Silver Dreams ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Retla
Chapter One
Silver Dreams
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“What are you doing?”
Whipping around with a fierce snarl, the boy was upon the little
girl before she had a chance to even blink. Pinning her beneath him
and wrapping his hands around her neck, he stared down at her with
teeth bared and a fierce snarl ripping from his throat. His
blood pounded in his ears, panic singing from the hairs on his head
to the toes on his feet, and he tightened his grip, fully intended
to snap her neck, when his gaze clashed with hers.
Huge blue eyes stared at him, curiosity quickly
overshadowing the shock from being thrown on the ground.
She gave a strangled gasp and covered her hands with his own. It
was almost as if an electric current flashed through him. Her hands
were cold, shaking slightly, and with a shocked hiss he jerked away
and scurried away from her, putting a few feet between
them.
“Are you hiding from somebody?” She asked,
sitting up and touching her throat softly. His
gaze caught the darkening of the skin around her pale neck,
his throat tightening painfully as he recognized the
shape of his fingers. She fingered it gently, pursed her
lips and waited, clearly expecting an answer.
Who the hell was she?
“I was going to kill you,” He growled at her, still
watching the bruise forming under her skin. He ripped his
gaze away, flicking over her quickly before he inched a few feet
further away from her. She was clothed in a simple white
dress that was now covered in a fine layer of dust and dead
grass, her long black hair was pulled into two braids that
rested over each shoulder. Her skin was pale, almost white
in the moonlight, eyes glowing like orbs in the glow of the camp
fire a few feet from them.
“Why?”
“How did you sneak up on me?” He snapped, finally
glancing around. Realizing it was unwise to take his eyes
off of her, even for a second, he glared at her with as much
hostility he could muster and bared his teeth. The
particular place he had set up camp had been strategically chosen;
downhill so that his scent would be hidden to most, deep enough in
the trees that by the time anyone was able to see or scent the
burning wood he would have been well aware of their presence. He
couldn't understand how she had been able to sneak up on him
undetected. His senses were unparalleled. She shouldn't have been
able to come within hundreds of feet before he sensed her.
Under any other circumstances, he would have been dead
already.
But she hadn't attacked him, hadn't screamed or seemed scared of
him at all. Those eyes seemed to unfocus, and silence stretched
between them for endless seconds before she finally focused back
onto him. “I didn't sneak up on you,” she said slowly.
“But … suddenly I was just standing behind you. I
… I can't remember anything before that.”
“What?” he bit out. She flinched and
cowered from him a bit, and a small part of him appreciated
the gesture. It seemed she finally understood the
danger she was in. “You were just walking aimlessly through
the forest?”
“Forest?” she asked, looking around. He
fought his surge of anger, bit back his growl. She didn't seem to
notice his fraying patience. “I don't remember walking
anywhere. I just blinked, and suddenly here I was.” She
looked at him and tilted her head to the side, and he found
himself staring back into an ocean of pure curiosity.
“Do you always go camping by yourself?”
“I'm not camping.”
“Then why are you in the forest?”
“I live here.”
“In the forest?”
“Who are you?” he snapped.
“Halo,” She told him simply. Her expression hadn't
changed, but her eyes were smiling. “What's your
name?”
Instead of answering, he turned and walked away from her,
facing back towards the camp fire. He felt, rather than
heard her following after him, ignoring her as she sat
across from him, tucking her legs to the side demurely. Her scent
drifted across him them, oceans and rainwater, and an ache erupted
in his chest.
“So?” She finally said.
Her voice was soft, he noticed, though not as feminine as
he thought it would be. He made a face at his
thoughts and glanced at her. Watching her for a
moment, he intuitively knew she harbored no animosity or hostility
of any kind. The reading of aura's, or what some people may call
spiritual or magical energy, was something his people taught at
birth. Although she seemed a bit shaken, outwardly she was calm,
watching him with pure intrigue. Her eyes
were huge as she stared back at him,
illuminated by the fire, and his gaze skittered away again.
“So, what?”
“Your name?”
“What about it?”
A flash of annoyance now. “You never told
me.”
A loud grumble bit off his retort, and he watched as her cheeks
pinked prettily. She smacked her hands over her stomach and ducked
her head, her face suddenly hidden by her bangs. Sighing, he
stood and made to venture out of the campsite before he
realized what he was doing. A cold hand grasped his wrist,
the grip tight but hardly painful, shaking. His eyes
followed the small fingers and into those huge blue eyes, looking
at him now, the curiosity muted by worry. “I thought
you were hungry?” He said, dryly.
“But aren't you hiding?” She whispered, glancing
over her shoulder. “It's not safe for you, right?” She
glanced around for a minute and dropped her hand, wrapping
her arms around her middle. He could sense it--- she
was frightened at the thought of him heading into the forest.
“No, I'm fine. You don't have to.”
She left him standing there, even more confused than before, as
she quickly took her place back across from him, staring into the
flames pensively.
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`Where am I?'
The fire crackled, its warmth floating over her
skin in rhythm to her beating heart and she sighed inwardly. She
couldn't remember anything. The moment she had stepped into
the clearing, saw the white haired boy sitting before the fire, she
had felt a rush of relief that caused her knees to quake. She
hadn't had time to wonder where exactly she was, the feeling she
had finally found something she had been searching for with every
fiber of her being overshadowed everything else. She had
waiting a moment, savoring the scene of the white hair boy
staring pensively into the fire, his back straight and tense, ready
to spring at the first intrusion. And her heart had lurched the
longer she stood there. The scene was so lonely, her heart
had clenched, and she reacted way before her brain could
process the predatory danger a few feet away from her. But the more
she watched, the more the scene turned tragic, heartbreaking for
her, and she had reacted before her brain could fully process the
predatory danger sitting dozens of feet from her.
She had spoken, and he had inhaled sharply in shock, the sound
almost whistling down his throat before he pinned her
to the ground, fingers locked around her throat.
He moved faster than her eyes could follow, his lips
pulled back from his teeth. Piercing grey, almost
silver eyes narrowed into slits as he snarled in her face,
and for a brief heartbeat she was terrified. But the fear
emanating from him was so strong that it crowded out her own, and
she knew instinctively that as long as she meant him no harm, he
wouldn't hurt her.
He released her after a few endless seconds and she sat up,
watching as he scurried away from her. Distrust radiated from every
fiber, and she had the faint sense every hair on his body was
standing on end. “Are you hiding from somebody?” He
didn't react, but she sensed his discomfort, saw the wild
fluttering of his pulse at his throat, and knew she was
right. “Why did you jump on me?”
“I was going to kill you,” He finally told her
in a snarl, and she felt her skin turn ice cold,
knowing that he spoke true. She stared at him, watching at
his gaze flicked over her and she willed her heartbeat to
calm. Something about him was almost wild, feral. Her
mommy had told her once that animals could smell fear. She
didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was.
He was bare chested, filthy, covered in bruises, scratches and the
like. Silver, almost white hair dusted his shoulders, his
bangs sticking to a bloody forehead. His piercing grey eyes watched
her warily.
“Why?” She asked him.
He glanced around them suddenly, caught himself and
glared mulishly at her. “How did you sneak up on
me?”
She thought about it for a moment, biting her lip. “I
didn't sneak up on you,” she finally told him.
““But … suddenly I was just standing behind you.
I … I can't remember anything before that.” Sure
enough, everything before was a blank slate. All she could remember
was opening her eyes, and seeing the boy sitting by himself.
Covered in dirt and blood, his body stiff with tension. But his
eyes … his eyes were sad, and lonely, and before she knew it
she had opened her mouth and made herself known.
She suddenly wanted to know more about him, this strange
boy with the beautiful eyes in the moonlight.
“Who are you?” He bit out, as if he couldn't
stop himself from asking.
“Halo,” she answered, amusement flooding her chest.
He was intrigued, and he didn't want to be. “What's
your name?”
But he had stopped glaring at her, turned his back and
walked to the camp fire. Confused for a bit, she quickly
followed and sat across from him. Mindful of her
dress, she sat with her legs tucked next to her.
“So?”
He peered at her, seemed a bit flushed by something he
saw in her face, and looked into the fire, poking at the
logs burning underneath. “So, what?”
“Your name?”
“What about it?”
She gritted her teeth. “You never told me.”
Suddenly, her stomach growled. Loudly. With a sharp
inhalation of breath, she felt her face warm up and she
ducked her head, embarrassed. He blinked at her
before laughing once, and pushed to his
feet.
And that's when she felt it, a flash of murderous joy, so potent
and chilling that she could almost feel the evil in that emotion
like a slime coating the inside of her chest. Panic seized
her chest, icing her blood, and she reached out before she knew it
and grabbed him, fingers locking with her terror. The woods
suddenly seemed menacing, dark, and treacherous. She knew, she just
knew, that it would be dangerous for the boy to venture out into
the unknown by himself. He glanced down at her and frowned.
“Aren't you hungry?” He asked
sourly.
Awareness slithered over her, lighting her nerves and making her
skin extremely sensitive. She could sense it, the tension as
whatever awaited their next movement. She could feel the undivided
attention, the focus on them feeling as if it was burning a hole
through her chest, and she shuddered lightly,
tightening her grip. “But aren't you hiding?”
she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder, her skin crawling for
the second time, and she knew under no circumstances would she let
him leave the safety of the camp fire. She dropped her hand from
his wrist. “It's not safe for you, right?” She didn't
give him a chance to answer. “No, I'm fine. You don't have
to.”
Her eyes lifted from the camp fire, and she found him staring at
her, puzzled, as if he was trying to figure something out.
Finally, he blew out his breath in a gust. “You
can sense them, can't you?”
“What? Sense who?”
His gaze flashed to the outside of the camp, and she shivered
again. “Whoever is there. You can tell they're
there.” It wasn't a question. “How did you get past
them?”
“So something is there,” She muttered, suddenly
drawing her legs up to her chest. She closed her eyes.
“If you knew, then why would you leave?”
“They will never kill me on a full moon,” he
growled, his voice savage. Her eyes; he was staring at a
place behind her, over her shoulder, his teeth bared.
“They won't be able to harm me, and they know
it.”
“So in the morning …”
His anger evaporated, and his eyes touched on her
before he looked away.
“Will they hurt you?” she asked quietly, dropping
her chin on her knees.
His gaze met hers, and once again she could see sadness mirrored
into her own. And then two things happened at once--- her
skin trembled, the hair on her neck standing on end a split moment
before she found herself suddenly surrounded by warmth, her face
smashed against the skin of his chest as a huge sonic boom shook
the forest floor and sent them flying backwards. She felt them
twist in midair, crying out while they smacked
against the tree, the impact jarring her horrible despite him
taking the brunt of it. With a pained groaned he slid to the floor,
his arms dropping from around her. She screamed and touched
his face, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Are you
okay?” she asked him hysterically. He nudged her hand
weakly, eyelids fluttering, trying to come to.
She was snatched back against a broad chest by the fabric
of her dress, her scream cut off by the glint of the huge
knife that was suddenly pushed against her throat. She
whimpered, and the boy's eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times.
Seeing her being held by the hair with a knife pressed to her
throat, the boy roared in defiance and jumped to his feet, stopping
short at something Halo couldn't see.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” The man
laughed, pushing the knife harder against her
throat. Her heart was hammering wildly against her chest,
and she weakly reached and dug her nails into the muscular forearm
snaked around her throat. The man didn't seem to notice.
“Got you a pretty little friend
here didn't cha?” he leaned down, pressing his face
into Halo's hair and taking a dramatic deep breath. His arm
tightened around her neck and he sighed, letting out a soft
chuckle. “Pretty one, indeed.”
“You dare challenge me, fae?” the boy asked quietly,
straightening. Two other figures entered the fray behind him,
dressed in simple jeans and t-shirts. She tried to
squeak out a warning, horror causing tears to flood her eyes
but he held her gaze for a moment; gave an imperceptible
shake of his head. “Are you really that
foolish?”
“Watch your mouth, mutt.” Her captor
bit out, all humor gone. He tightened his choke hold, partially
cutting of her airway. She felt a sharp pinch,
warmth trailing down the front of her dress and
she whimpered, scoring her nails across his skin.
“Sure, we can't kill you under the safety of the
goddess. But your friend here is another story.”
“Save some for me, Freud.” One of the men called
out, leering. He snapped his teeth at her playfully, before licking
his lips. He had red hair on his head and face, dusting his
arms; his teeth were pointed and gnarly, unnatural. He wasn't
human, she realized. Her heart stuttered, skipped a beat, and her
fear spiked up another notch. “She smells good enough
to eat.”
“Run!” She managed to gasp out, her nails
finally drawing blood. Freud, her captor, growled and
shook her roughly. “Run, get away!”
The boy didn't move.
The men watched in shocked silence for a split second
before they burst into a roar of laughter. The man who
hadn't spoken yet stepped forward, and with a shout gave the
boy a powerful kick sent him sprawling at
Freud's feet. Halo shrieked as Freud's large foot
came down brutally, using his heel to dig his face in the
dirt. `Why isn't he running?' her mind screamed
as Freud's companions joined him, stomping the boy
mercilessly. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth
gnashed together in pain, but he never made a sound. Only the
sounds of their laughter and Halo's sobbing could be
heard. `Please, you have to get away!'
After a while they stepped back; the boy was
covered in bruises on his back and side, his chest horrible
discolored and seemed to be caving on one side. One his eyes
swollen shut, his mouth bloody as he spit a mouthful into the dirt,
and she felt bile rising up her stomach, trapped in her throat by
the arm holding her prisoner. One of the men
reached down and grabbed him by the hair, forcing him
limply to his knees, and Halo was flung to the ground a second
later, given a vicious kick that sent her rolling a few
feet away. She groaned, weakly rolling onto her side and
wrapping her arms around herself, choking and coughing
up a mouthful of blood. Pain radiated from her
midsection to every crevice of her body; she struggled to her
knees, one hand still wrapped around her stomach, and retched
violently. Through the haze of pain the sound of a struggle
registered and she collapsed onto her side, seeing the boy
began to thrash, pulling to get away and dragging his
captors in her direction. Shock rendered them immobile,
allowing him to actually pull them a few feet until Freud
settled him with a well-placed punch to the stomach.
He gagged, his eyes bulging, blood dripping from him mouth
and running down his chin, staining the dirt covered on his
chest.
“Stop,” Halo whispered, watching as Freud
rubbed her blood off of the knife by the bottom of his
shirt. The two other men held the boy up by
the arms, and Freud set the tip against the boy's stomach,
sneering in his face. “Please, don't.”
Her pleas went unheard as the tip of the knife
pierced the boy's skin. Her vision winked in and out, unconsciously
slowly seeping into her, and but she fought against it. She faintly
heard Freud laughed with glee at the boy's
restraint; could vaguely see him pushing the knife a
little further into the boy's body. “If you last until
the morning, boy, we won't kill the girl.”
He muttered, twisting the knife slightly. The boy hissed
and blanched, the muscles in his arms flexing, and
the men held him tighter.
“Stop it,” She reached towards him, her
vision beginning to blur. With each beat of her heart
she could hear her blood roaring through her ears, drowning out
every other sound around her. The world around her began to
tremble, the edges of her sight blurring as rage, hot and bitter
and uncontrollable began to churn her belly. With
each pump of her heart, her body heat inched up another notch, and
her fingers stretched towards the scene before her, trembling
precariously as she tried to reach him. Her head began to
spin, her fingertips and toes tingling before the sensation slowly
spread up her arms and legs. “Please, let him
go.”
“We just want to have a little fun with her,” Freud
said, watching the boy' expression, pushing the knife to the
hilt. She saw the boy raise his head, staring Freud in the
eyes, a wicked smile spreading across his face. She
felt a flicker of pure bloodlust, unbridled hunger, undiluted evil,
and her stomach heaved again as Freud stumbled back, the knife
pulling out of the boy and falling to the floor with a clang.
His face was pale, Halo realized when her sickness
passed. He was trembling; his breathing was
loud enough to be heard by her, even though he was a few feet
away. He was afraid.
After a moment he shook his head as if to dispel his
fear, snatched the knife off of the ground and
grabbed the boy by the neck, lifting him a few
feet off of the ground. “You little bastard!”
He raised the knife high, the glint of the silver shining from
the moonlight, and her body flashed white hot.
Shocking, agonizing, yet she watched with absolute clarity as
the knife swung lower and lower. Blood roared in her ears, burned
in her mouth, twisted painfully in her stomach, and
she screamed...
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“Are you feeling okay?”
Blinking, Halo found herself almost nose to nose with her best
friend Rita, who was peering at her with worry. She forced a smile,
kissing Rita's nose and laughing when the girl sputtered and fell
back in the grass on her bottom, a soft blush stealing up her
cheeks.
Rita smiled, picking up a handful of grass and tossing it in Halo's
direction. “You keep staring off into space. What are you
thinking about?”
Silver eyes flashed in her head, and her smile fell. She looked off
into the distance and bit her lip. `Whose eyes are those?'
she asked herself, for maybe the millionth time. `Who is
he?'
Rita watched her and sighed as she fell forward, straight into
Halo's lap, startling her. Halo glanced down as Rita turned to her
side, stretching her arms out drifting her eyes closed. The sun
warmed the grass of the small flower meadow where they relaxed
often; the scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass was thick,
hypnotic, but not cloying. Birds called to each other in the
distance, squirrels and rabbits frolicked happily in the shade of
the trees just outside the meadow.Rita traveled here often,
nurturing the flowers that grew here and often selling the petals
in her herpathocary shop she ran with her family in town. Often
times she would drag Halo with her, he usually found herself laying
in the middle of the field, the sun warming her cheeks, the flowers
stroking her skin almost lovingly, the sky pure and never ending as
far as she could see.
She plucked a flower out of Rita's basket and tucked a stem into
her hair, running soft fingers over the petals. “Are you
thinking about Luke?” Rita mused.
Heat stole into Halo's cheeks and she snorted. “Please. He's
an ass. End of story.”
Rita's soft laughter rang out, and Halo's blush deepened.
“Oh, come on. You can't tell me you had no idea until
yesterday.”
“Rita,” Halo sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Just hear me out,” Rita said quickly. “You guys
have been friends forever. Why wouldn't he fall in love with
you?”
`Because we grew up together,' Halo thought, exasperated.
She scowled. `He's like a brother to me.`
“It's …. just weird.” She finally answered. Rita
frowned. “I'm not going out with him, and that's
that.”
Rita sat up, her curly brown hair framing her face. Her freckled
nose wrinkled, and she sneezed and sniffled. Halo laughed.
“Oh, you aren't even giving him a chance!” She sneezed
again, reaching out and plucking Halo in the forehead before she
can laugh again. “Stop laughing! You know my allergies are
horrible this time of year.”
“And yet, you drag me out here with you every day.”
“You likeeeee it,” Rita sang smugly.
“I never---“ She inhaled sharply, her mouth going dry,
and snapped her head to the left, a numb feeling spreading over her
lips and causing her pulse to quicken. Her skin trembled, the blood
turning ice cold in her veins, and she pressed her lips together in
a line.
“Halo?” she heard Rita ask, worried. She blinked,
realizing Rita was waving a hand in front of her face, her features
pinched and pale as she glanced in the direction Halo was staring.
“Is everything okay? Is something wrong?”
Halo forced a smile, but it never reached her eyes. She pulled Rita
to her feet and along with her roughly, never looking back.
“I'm starving,” she tried to sound cheerful, but in the
end she knew she wouldn't be able to fool her childhood bestfriend.
But she knew one way to get her attention that was sure fire to
work. “Let's get some food.”
“Sounds great,” Rita exclaimed, and Halo grinned
internally. Worked like a charm.
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“Dammit, Halo. How many times do I have to tell you about
roaming alone this time of night?”
Not responding, Halo shut and locked the wooden door behind her
with an inaudible sigh. “I was with Rita,” she said
dryly. “I walked her home and then I came straight back,
Bo.”
Bo glared as she sat heavily in the handmade wooden chair by the
fire, pulling off her boots with a grimace. They made a dull noise
as she dropped them from her fingers and worked to rub her aching
feet, one by one. Eventually she glanced up at him and raised an
eyebrow. He pointed a finger at her accusingly; his skin calloused
and stained from years of carpentry. “Look Lo-Lo, you
have to be more careful …” He started.
“How long are you going to call me that?” she mumbled,
knowing he was only trying to irritate her. She hated being called
that, and he knew it.
“Until you're an old woman,” he answered automatically.
“And don't try to change the subject. Either you'll be more
careful or I'll kick your ass.”
Halo hid her grin. Bo had never struck her in her life. He'd punish
her somehow, she knew. But physical harm to her was an empty
threat, and they both knew it. “Rita promised she'd drop off
some medicine tomorrow.” She told him, bending to pick up her
boots. She stood and padded to the back of the rather large cabin,
throwing them in the corner once she stepped into her room. She
heard Bo lumbering behind her and sighed. A large man, almost seven
feet tall and weighing in at well over two hundred and fifty
pounds, if Bo stomped his foot hard enough she would be able to
feel the tremors no matter which corner of the cabin she stood.
She watched as he crowded her door way and continued to glare.
Short cut brown hair covered his head and brown hair dusted the
arms she could see through the sleeves of his dirty t-shirt.
“Did you leave town again?”
“Technically, it was still town.” She said evasively,
pulling her long ink black braid over her shoulder and swiftly
unbraiding it. She allowed it to flow freely down her shoulders and
she sighed, running her fingers through it absently, knowing Bo
would begin on a tirade that might last a while if he figured out
exactly, how far into the woods she went. So she took another
tactic. “And besides, I had Rita and Luke with me.”
Which wasn't exactly a lie; as her and Rita were leaving the
clearing, Luke had been on his way back into town, and they all
decided to grab a bite to eat together.
She peeked up at him through the fringe of her bangs and smirked.
Bo stood there with his arms crossed, a deep frown on his face as
he stared at some place over her head. Luke was the son of one of
Bo's closest friends. There weren't many he trusted, but Luke, and
his father, was definitely someone he knew he could depend on. She
could see him warring with the worry that she may get hurt, or even
worst caught, outside of the town limits. But with Luke there, and
even Rita, he knew as well as she did that she was safe.
He was silent for a few moments, and she worried that if he took
any longer she was going to laugh out right. “Well, even with
Luke,” he began reluctantly. “You kids should know
better.”
“I don't always need an escort,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, you do.” He leaned against the doorway and eyed
her with speculation. “Are you sure you're okay? Have any
nightmares lately?”
“No,” she snapped, suddenly uncomfortable. “I was
a kid the last time I had them. I'm fine.” She pushed to her
feet and peeled her thin cotton shirt off without preamble. Bo
stuttered and whipped around, showing her his back. “Now can
I bathe?”
“Dammit, girl.” He growled at her, shaking his head.
“You're more stubborn than your mother ever was.”
Silence stretched between them, tense and thick, and he sighed.
“You really are like her, you know. More and more every
day.”
“Shut up, old man.” She mumbled, pushing past him and
padding down the hall.
He closed his eyes as the bathroom door slammed shut. Shaking his
head, he stepped out of the front door, reaching into his pocket
for his pack of cigarettes when an awareness slithered down his
spine seconds before a bowed figure materialized in front of him,
head lowered respectively. Bo sighed, crumbling the entire pack of
cigarettes in his fist and allowing them to drop to the floor.
“Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes.”
The head dipped lower, his response drifting to Bo's ears seconds
after he disappeared from sight. “Understood.”
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The firelight illuminated the harsh lines around the three faces
surrounding it. The servant woman stood by the entrance, her head
bowed respectively as each one weighed in the information she had
shared with them. Bo spoke first, slamming his fist on the table.
“We have to tell her.”
Panic flashed on each face simultaneously. “Boris, that's
foolish. She can kill us all if she loses control. Have your
emotions for her overshadowed your judgment?” The woman next
to him asked, her voice shaking a little.
Before Bo could respond, a voice cleared and claimed his attention.
The white haired man, the chief of the small town, folded his hand
on the table and stared somberly into the fire. “As these
things go, it is only to be assumed that eventually she would grow
into her legacy.” The man began. The woman made a small noise
in her throat, but he ignored her. “If she was beginning to
show a threat to the Gate, Boris would have told us
immediately.”
Gazes clashed over the spitting fire, and Bo mashed his mouth into
a hard line. The fourth and final man spoke up, his voice quiet
over the tension filling the room. “Maybe we can utilize
her,” He said slowly. He flinched when Bo glared at him.
“What I mean to say is, we can use her to our own gain. Her
blood is priceless. Harboring her here puts us all in danger
anyway---“
“She is not an object, or a machine.” Bo said between
his teeth. “She is human, and a little girl. We cannot
simply---“
“A little girl she may be, but don't get ahead of yourself
here, Boris.” The woman smiled nastily, dropping her cheek
into one upraised hand. “Never forget that she's not
human.”
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Small hands framed his face and smoothed his bangs back from his
skin. A voice called out to him, making his head ache, and he
groaned, pulling his face out of the strange hands.
They reached for him again, rubbing his cheeks gently,
and he fought against the endless mist surrounding his thoughts.
Something about that scent, something about the warmth of those
hands beckoned him. The warmth radiated through his
skin, the scent filling his lungs and layering on his tongue,
and slowly his eyes opened. The salty scent of tears assailed
him and harsh, frantic breathing rung in his ears before his vision
cleared enough for him to make out the face peering at him. Milky
white, soft skin. Huge blue eyes.
“Your alive,” she breathed, two fat tears dripping
down her cheeks. She touched her forehead to his and breathed a
ragged breath, trembling. “I thought they killed
you.”
“What …” He groaned again. Talking …
hurt. He tried to take a breath and hissed in pain.
Different aches and pain sbegan to drift to him
again, suddenly becoming one sharp blaze of torture
that he felt from head to toe. “What are you doing
here? What happened to you?”
She shrugged and he allowed his gaze to drift over her. She was
dressed in an over large shirt that seemed to swallow
her, and some matching pants, the feet dragging around her
small frame. She took the bottom of the shirt and softly began to
rub at the dirt and blood staining his face. “I . . . Just
like last time. I can't remember anything.”
“Well what do you remember?”
“This time, I remember lying in my bed. I
must have been dreaming,” She trailed off, sinking back and
staring at him thoughtfully. “And next thing I knew, I opened
my eyes and I was here.”
“But you remembered what happened last time we were
together?”
She stared at him for confusion for a while and blanked
out, her skin paling as her eyes widened. She snapped back,
almost violently, her eyes widened with something akin to
horror before using her shirt to dab gently, but
insistently at his stomach. Her panic gave way to confusion,
and she glanced at him, before flattening her palm on his now
mostly clean skin, over where she watched the knife
pierce him. The skin was tender, pink.
If she didn't know better, she would have mistaken it for a
bruise. “But … He stabbed you.”
He didn't respond, just watched her closely.
“But you're already healed?” Her forehead wrinkled
as she tried to figure it out. “How long has it
been?”
“Three days.”
He waited for her to freak out, but instead her
forehead wrinkled again. Again with that detached calmness.
He felt anger flash through him again and he ground his teeth
together as she leaned back and stared at his chest
for a long moment. With each passing moment, his
anger grew and grew until he was utterly livid. “Then
why are you still so bloody? Why are all of your other
wounds new?”
And just then, his patience snapped. “Are you
stupid, or something?”
“Hey! Don't call me stupid,
stupid!”
“I just told you my stab wound healed in three
days! Three days!”
“I heard you,” she grumbled petulantly.
“Then why aren't you screaming and running away?” He
finally yelled at her, his patience destroyed. “The other
time too! You weren't afraid at all! Don't you have any idea what I
am?”
“You're a boy, aren't you?” She asked him, looking
at him askance now.
He stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds before he burst
into laughter. Large guffaws that made his chest ache, but
he just couldn't help it. After a while his laughter died
down and he opened his eyes to see her watching him, a
scowl dusting the corners of her mouth. “You really
are stupid, you know.” He told her, still snickering.
“My name is Halo, not stupid.” She snapped, pushing
to her feet.
“Esau.”
She blinked. “What?”
He looked up at her just as the moonlight filtered in
from behind him, illuminating his bruised, bloody body with a
lovers caress. She recognized they were in a cave
now, and two chains were nailed into the cave walls, tied
around his wrists and holding him up so that he sat weakly on his
knees. His hair was bloodier than she remembered, definitely
filthier. He was still shirtless, still covered and scratches,
bruises and the like. His silver eyes narrowed into slits
and she shivered as he smiled at her, the moonlight
glinting off of his bloody teeth.
“I never told you my name. It's
Esau.”
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A/N
Hello, and welcome to the world of Retla! Reviews, pointers,
everything is welcome!
-Chrissandra