CHAPTER 8: MESSENGER
1246 Words
My mom used to tell me I was ordinary.
Maybe she meant safe. Invisible. Predictable.
Maybe it was a compliment. Maybe it was a warning.
I guess, like Dad, she wanted me to be nothing like her.
But either way, she was wrong. They both were.
Ordinary kids don’t wish to be Bella Swan when every other girl wants to be a princess.
Because Bella Swan is anything but ordinary.
And so am I.
I bumped into someone.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, then glanced up. "Leo," I added like a wild guess like a test I didn’t study for.
He didn’t react.
"Okay...I really can’t tell who this is," I admitted, squinting. He had on a white polo shirt and casual pants which told me absolutely nothing.
“Really..?” He said, that soft voice giving him away.
“Lev.” I breathed, smiling faintly like my brain finally caught up.
“I heard you went to your parents.”
I nodded.
“I didn’t think you’d come back.”
“Why?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Because... you don’t like my brother Lior.”
I looked at him. “I don’t hate him.”
“But you don’t like him.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he was trying to figure me out.
Silence settled.
I jangled the car keys in my hands. “Don’t even know whose car I borrowed.” I grinned.
He chuckled lightly. But it felt weighted. The tension from his question...I guess.
“I'll go in.” I started to step past him.
“Be careful with him.” He said, voice lower now, like the words weren't meant to be heard by walls.
I froze mid-step.
“Why?”
“Just be careful.”
“You think he’s a curse too?” I asked, the words leaving my mouth before my brain approved them.
“Guess words have been flying around ,” Lev said, not meeting my eyes.
“He’s your brother.”
His jaw tightened, like he was chewing on words too bitter to swallow. “That doesn’t make the truth a lie.”
We stared at each other.
“Don’t give me that look.” He said, dipping his hand in his pocket.
"What look?" I asked.
"That one." He rolled his eyes–sexy. "You don’t know him better than I do."
I wanted to ask if he truly knew his brother or just believed what people said but I didn't, just kept quiet, and stared.
The silence lingered.
“You wanna come with me?” he asked, suddenly.
Lior would've just dragged me by the wrist.
“To where?” I shrugged.
“I want to show you something....someone.”
I hesitated, then nodded. Because I’m curious. Or stupid. Or both. We'd see.
We passed through the hallway. Then down the basement. Stone beneath our feet. Shadows thicker here. The air shifted like we were stepping out of time.
Then he opened a small door, which led us to a hallway, and then we got to a room that looked like it belonged to an entirely different house. A forgotten wing.
He pushed opened the door slowly. A chill snuck up my spine–didn't know what to expect.
He took a step in, cautiously, without saying a word.
I didn't.
The air smelled faintly metallic–not blood, not exactly, but like old pennies and stone.
“...Who’s that?” I asked from the doorway.
“Lord Lucian.”
I blinked. “Your father’s dead?”
He shook his head. “In a coma.”
I stared at the pale, stiff body on the table. Every vein invisible. His chest didn't rise, his lips were grey and he's far away from home.
"Looks dead to me," I muttered under my breath as I looked at him again, his skin was waxy like someone had drained the color out of him and forgotten to put it back.
“Lior did this to him.” He pointed at the deep, ragged claw marks that raked across his father’s chest and face.
“…What did your dad do to him?” I shrugged one shoulder.
Lev turned. Slowly. His look nearly split me in half. He scoffed, sharp, brittle and full of something he didn't want to say out loud.
“Lior did this to our father. And you’re asking what my father did?”
His voice was calm. Too calm. That eeri pre-storm calm that makes the hairs on your arms stand up because you know that thunder's coming.
My face looked sorry, but I wasn't. I wasn't sorry for my question.
“You seem to know a lot,” he said quietly. “Why aren’t you asking how Lior could do this?”
I gulped. “I... need to return this car key.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I ran.
Through the hallways. Up the stairs. Through the air that didn’t seem to breathe down there. Until I reached the kitchen and Hannah.
“Hi,” I gasped, tossing her the key like it was cursed.
“You’re back on time,” she said smoothly, dicing lemon like she didn't live in a house full of wolves and corpse.
“Earlier. I was with Lev,” I said, “And... Lord Lucian.” I added, lowering my voice.
She just stared. No blink. No twitch. Just that deep stare.
“Yesterday was Lior’s birthday. No one said anything.” I gulped.
“It is never mentioned in this mansion,” she said, turning to the freezer.
I leaned closer.
“Thaliora... what happened to Lord Lucian?” I whispered.
She glanced at me, then stepped out of the kitchen without a word.
I followed.
“Every werewolf child transitions at most, by sixteen,” she said. “A full shift. A claiming of form.”
“Transition, you mean… they turn into dogs.”
Thaliora gave a solemn nod.
“Lev and Leo shifted when they were twelve. But Lior… nothing. Not a sniff. Not a shift. Just silence.
She paused, took a breath like she was recalling the story from memory.
"Lord Lucian pushed him a little too much, and he in turn tried to push himself, too much, and then everyone saw why he'd never really tried. The result was Lord Lucian."
"So he's never shifted? Ever?"
She nodded.
"Never fully. That night was the first time he came that close, and the last.”
I inhaled. Thaliora did too.
“You seem to know a lot about this household.” I said. "Like you've been here since forever."
She smiled softly.
“I’ve been Esther. Dorcas. Now Hannah. Only an Elarwyn bloodline sees me in my true form.”
“So... what do the rest see?”
“A pretty girl. Maybe twenty. Hardworking. Great with knives. And apparently, a nice ass.”
She winked.
I snorted. “Badass.”
"But.. how do you do it? What are you? A god?"
She bowed slightly. “Messenger.”
“Angel?"
“Messenger.” She said again, this time it sounded like a title.
I nodded slowly, chewing on the word like I was trying to memorize a riddle, "...messenger "
Then I saw him.
Lior.
Walking towards his room.
Something in his stride, quiet but deliberate, made my heart do a little tap dance.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, already chasing after the storm.
- Writer
