Archive for October, 2014

5.25

“No. Faster.” Azazel’s voice is unrelenting in the small apartment. When he agreed to teach me a few tricks on fighting vampires, I didn’t think he’d be so… So very militaristic. He could have been the inspiration for the angry colonel in all the old movies. Strict and authoritative, and very unimpressed with everything that I could do. “You can’t spend ten seconds transforming in a battle. You’ll be dead before you even draw fangs-“

“I’m not taking ta-“

“Again.” He breathes all to calmly. I huff, my eyes settling into a dangerous glare, before I let the animalistic magic take a hold of my body. Once I feel my paws against the dirty floor, I shift back, in what has to be less than ten seconds. Easily. I stare at him hard for a few seconds, wishing his face would show some sign of who he was, and what he was thinking. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” I take an unsteady breath and stand again, relishing in being able to stretch out my human legs. I was already faster than most of the other wolves. I could do partial transformations, one leg, or a hand, I could shift in under ten seconds, screw Azazel, I knew that much.

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“Your fast. But not fast enough.” Azazel sighs, his eyes bubbling over in boredom, and exasperation. The way he spoke was like he was explaining the two times table to a child, like I was so simple, and he was so god damn smart. But I wasn’t going to bite at him for that. I mean, I was getting faster with what little hints he was affording me. That had to count for something, and if I could prove myself, maybe he’d actually give me something useful. “Again.”

I must do it thirty more times, at least in rapid succession, all resulting in the same half blank, unblinking stare. Think about the possibilities, not this torture… We’d been at it for almost three weeks straight, in between the various missions, and reading, and meetings (there were ungodly amounts of those), and then the vampires I’d been allowed to play with in the interrogation unit, or I suppose practice with. Everyone was busy, but I was running ragged.

There’s a loud knock at the door, and Azazel sighs, running his hand down his pale ghostly face. Cas’ warm scent drifts through the crack under the door, as he lets himself in. “You know just once, I hoped that when I came over, you wouldn’t be doing something weird.” Cas smirks my way, his eyes flickering nervously across my body, bare of clothing, and ragged of breath. I can tell he wants to mention the blood on the floor, but like always he bites his tongue.

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I stand and go into the next room to throw on a shirt, and pants. I return to throw a barrage of kisses against his warm, sun soaked skin. “Not the weirdest thing, though is it?” He laughs softly, entirely relaxed around the creature he fears the most. A supernatural soldier, and he kept coming back for more. He was mad. “I’m gone again tomorrow.” I mention briefly, watching him tense with the implications.

“How long?” He asks, Cas tightens his jaw, and his breathing shifts. His honey eyes fix on me affectionately.

“It’s a security detail.” I say, pulling myself onto the bench, letting my legs hang limply below. “Two weeks out in California while they build another safe zone. If all goes well-“

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“And if it doesn’t?” His voice is even, as much as he can make it, but the change in his face is evident. It makes me want to look away, and hide my face from him so he can’t read my eyes. But I can’t look away. He knew exactly what could go wrong, it didn’t make it easier, but at least he knew.

“I’m coming home, Cas, I’m not going anywhere.” My voice is lost somewhere between a snarl and a warning. My muscles tense painfully, and all the injuries I’d acquired over the years burned in response to the memories. We both knew exactly what could happen. I tremble slightly, placing my hand over his heart, and watch the soft vibrations of his pulse under his skin. My teeth grit as I force myself to focus on that tiny little beat, that seemed so vibrant and beautiful.

Cas is silent for a few moments, before he places a rough hand over mine. His golden eyes glimmer for a moment, before his fingers tangle into my hair, pulling me roughly to his face. “Is that a promise?”

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I close the gap between us, kissing his lips, and I’m sure he can taste the violence on my skin. Trapping his lip between my teeth, I bite down until I’m sure it hurts, and his breath shudders. In contrast to the rough barrage, and tangle of lips, his hands are steady, and gentle, in the way I know he could pick me up and throw me around, inflict the same amount of beautiful pain upon me, but is holding back.

My head swims dizzily as he pulls away, lips red, and puffy under my assault. He leaves a handprint on my thigh in his wake that throbs pleasantly, along with the rest of me.

“You need to clean up in here. I know that you’re never here, but come on.” Cas’ voice is deep, and husky, and sends a shiver down my spine. Pulling away, the missing space he inhibited burns in longing. He throws the fridge door open and shakes his head in disapproval. “Seriously?”

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It’s empty, apart from a six pack, a half block of cheese, and milk I don’t even remember buying. In fact, I’m sure it’s not even supposed to be that colour. “We could order pizza?” I chime in.

His eyes fall on mine, before surveying the room again. The couch pushed against the wall, the circle of blood on the floor that I’m all to aware of, and the TV on, and facing the empty space. The blinds are shut. And haven’t been open in a month. Books, and bottles are scattered haphazardly where I’ve thrown them.

“You know, when we live together, we’re not living like this.” The statement is all to casual and starts a fire in my gut. When we live together? Did he think I was always like this? No. I wasn’t. It was like this so I could learn to fight. And live together? As in, together? In one house, all the time, us?

“Like your house is any better.” I growl unhappily, trying to think about the words before they leave my mouth. “It looks like an old woman’s house. Plants everywhere, books, bibles, it wouldn’t surprise me if you started knitting one of these days.”

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“If I had time I might, I’m sure it gets real cold on all those missions.” He smirks, wrapping a hand around my waist and pulling me back into him. I’m sure he knows exactly what’s he’s said. When I don’t relax, he kisses my cheek. “Larka, I just…” Cas pulls a strange face before giving me up.

“What? Don’t give me that face.” I frown at him, crossing my arms. I can sense his hesitation. The reluctance on his face. And the race of his heart. “What?!” I demand a little more loudly than needed.

“I guess I just kinda…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Uncertainty stinking up the room. Pulling another face, he starts again. “I think I might.. Maybe.. Sorta love you.” He coughs loudly, his cheeks turning a slight pink.

“Fuck you.” I spit the words out before I can think. And his face twists, and droops. But love? Here, now? The heat rises in my cheeks, as the silence draws on. What does he expect? From me? From the situation? If he just looked at what was happening around us, a war of god damn biblical proportion. Armageddon level. End of the civilized world level. People were dying left, right, front and god damned centre, with him on that ever growing list, and he went and fell in god damned fucking love.

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With me.

In the middle of the eradication of mortal life. The apocalypse. My breath shudders angrily, and my heart thunders in my ears. There was no point in getting attached, and in falling in love, in caring for anyone, because no one lived long enough for it to matter. So what fool, god damned numskull would put themself through such an undignified thing.

But isn’t that what I’m doing.

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, that it was too early for you. But with all these missions, and fights, I just, I wanted you to know-“

“Get out.” I hiss, almost vibrating with the thoughts flashing in my head. To run, to fight, to anything.

“What?” His eyes dart to mine, locking in on the utter betrayal on my face.

“You heard me-“

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“No.” He says simply, as I tremble with the anger in front of him. I send him a look that says I could make him leave, but the one he sends back is even darker, and more threatening. He closes the gap I’ve put between us. “Listen to me.” I let him pin me against the wall, the simple act would send my mother into a panic attack that would last for days just to see. I could push him away, I’m stronger than he is, but I allow his eyes to anchor me to the floor. To let the soft thrum of his pulse hold me steady and in place. For his hands to hold my wrists painfully beneath his grip.

“Larka. I’m sorry.” His breath is warm on my face, and his voice gentle. I had to give it to him, he had the patience of a saint. But it didn’t change how I felt. Love wasn’t real, it wasn’t true, or hope, it was death, it was weakness. It was a lie. But I was so weak with the need to save him that I broke my own rules, I went out on dates, I ate with him, talked to him, took an interest, stayed the night.

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“But I’m not going to take it back. I won’t. Because I need you to know that I do, that I care, and since I’ve met you, god, you’ve made my life hell.” He smiles softly, the grip on my wrist loosening ever so softly. “Bled all over my floor, hit me, got me working with demons, falling in love with one too, you’re always gone too, and I don’t know where you are, or if you’re coming back at all. Whether I’m with you, or you just said goodbye, or in haven’t seen you all week, you’re always there. I’ve got a hole in my head reserved just for you, and you fit perfectly.”

“Cas, I can’t-“

“No, Larka. I can’t let you go away again without knowing this.” Suddenly his lips are on my ear, whispering in a tone so deep, and husky it makes my knees tremble. “I can’t let you go on another mission without kissing your lips til they’re red, and swollen. And I won’t let you leave until I cover your skin in a swathe of kisses, and leave bruises in my wake. And i won’t let you leave until the words ‘I love you’ leave you trembling and breathless, just like you are now.”

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I need to hold onto the anger, I want it to push him away, and demand that he uncomplicates things, everything. But with his teeth grazing my ear, I can’t make a sound but the very unladylike moan on my lips. His kisses trail down to my neck, and I weakly try to resist, holding my head in place, and I struggle not to expose the soft, sensitive skin in submission. His hand gently, but firmly holds my jaw, and twists, licking down the vein in my neck.

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I like this side of him. Dominant. Demanding. Not letting me walk all over him. The guy had flare, he knew exactly how to win an argument. And I was breathless, my legs trembling beneath his strong hands. His lips trail back up, and along my jawline, before he pulls away. His eyes darkened, and laced with emotion. His fingers caress my skin, turning a light shade of purple beneath the presence of where his lips once lay.

“Larka..” He breathes. “I love you. You don’t have to say it back, I’m not asking you to. Maybe in time, you’ll trust me enough to tell me how you feel, but right now, all that matters is that you know.”

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“Well I know now.” I pant heavily, focusing on the journey of his hands, and the throbbing of where I need them.

“Are you going to behave now?” He raises an eye with a small smirk, and untangles himself for my hair, and limbs, wrapped firmly around him.

“Not in your life.” I growl with just a hint of defiance.

Authors note

Guys I’m so sorry about dropping off the map and not posting or anything in a while. I’m a terrible procrastinator, I have been busy, but lets be honest, I suck a little bit (I’ve had this written for like over two weeks). 

*

5.24 (2)

“Cas, is this going somewhere?” I ask with an impatient sigh as I finish off my drink in the bar. I’d had agreed to the date, in my somewhat hysterical, and fragile state, what can I say? I had a weak moment, and he just looked so sweet, and innocent, and mouthwatering I had to say yes. But then we’d started talking, like actually talking, and that wasn’t something I was used to. Or even enjoyed. “Not that I don’t want to hear about your day, but do I need to hear about your day, in such detail.” Excruciating detail.

He sighs, his eyes closing in something very close to exasperation. “This is what you do when you have dinner with someone.” He forces a smile, tentative, but cracking at the corners. How could I say, I don’t want you to die, but I don’t want to hear about your day either. “You ask them how they’re feeling, and what they did that day, and then when they’re done, you ask more questions.” His eye brows flare up in mock sarcasm as I bite my tongue.

“Sorry country boy, what did you do today? And how was it? An-“

5.24

“Larka.” Cas says my name softly. “We don’t have to finish dinner off if it’s to much for you. But this is what normal people do.” I smirk at him and he shakes his head. Normal people also weren’t contending with a time limit. “I don’t care if you hate this type of thing, and whenever someone talks, you zone out completely. I don’t care if your rude and somewhat intolerable with other people, because I find it endearing in a way which even confuses me. But we compromise, and when that one person talks about something that would bore us to death with any other person, we still listen. And we still care. Because that’s what you do when you lo-” I shoot him a dark scowl and he cracks a wide grin, patting my hand. “When you like someone, you’re happy to hear about their day. About all of it. Even the boring bits, but.. Am I really that boring?” Stifling a laugh I watch his amber eyes cloud over. His jaw was rigid with exasperation, but in the corners of his mouth, amusement was bubbling.

“No. No you’re not.” I finally reply, struggling to hide my own grin as his grim facade cracks. Under the table I tap my foot against his softly. “Sorry, Casy boy, I guess I’ve just never listened to anyone’s day before. Never cared enough to.”

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“There’s always a first for everything.” He shakes his head softly, and I feel my stomach tighten in response to his wide grin. The grin that always seemed to big for his face, but fit just perfectly. “Even complex adult emotions.” His eyebrows wiggle in mock seriousness.

I don’t know how, but Cas knew the buttons to push, and where to find them, and of course exactly when to pull away before a socked him one. Maybe it was the moonlight in his hair, or the faint smell of gin on my breath, but tonight, I didn’t have to worry about the future. As we walked out from the bar, and onto the street, his laughter, and the passing traffic seemed to be the only thing that existed.

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Larka.” He breathes suddenly inches from my face. His arms wrap around me, and the heat from his body floods against my skin, even through the fabric of my skin. I can feel his smile in the crook of my neck, as he fumbles for the lock at his door, and for a moment, I can feel the heat blazing in my cheeks.

“What happened to your three date rule.” I can barely get the words out, as he pulls away and slumps against the doorway. With my heart in my throat, it takes everything not to throw myself into him, and attach myself to his lips. But I want this to work. I want him more than just one more night.

“I’ve been trying to remember why I thought that was a good idea all night.” His voice is husky, and deep. “So, Larka, won’t you please come inside.”

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*

My dreams are cold, and desperate. I can see Arkin in the water. I can see his fangs gleaming as I watch him watching me. I’m acutely aware of the fact that he can see me. Not just look towards me, and see through me, but actually see me. It flushes my skin cold as ice. And I can feel that other presence at the back of my skull. Soft, calm, violent, powerful. Old. Human. I suppose he wanted to see me save this world, and I wanted that too. But I couldn’t do it alone, not at my level.

I wake up, my muscles aching softly as I stretch out in the bed. There’s a weight beside me in the unfamiliar room, and suddenly the memories begin to boil on my skin. Cas, the entirety of Cas, and the entirety of me, entwined and joined. I smirk victoriously as I slump my head into his lap.

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“Welcome back to the world of the living.” He smiles without looking away from the files in his hands. His eyes flicker lazily across the surface of the paper, and his brow relaxes with my touch. “It’s 3pm in case you’re wondering, and no, I wasn’t completely sure you were coming back. So let’s call it a hunch so it sounds less creepy that I’ve let a dead person sleep beside me, calmly, for the last, god, fourteen hours.”

I poke my tongue out at him, and his laughter vibrates through his body. This was the memory I wanted to keep, the sunlight in his hair, and the serene joy in the very fiber of his being. The Cas that laughed, and smiled. That Cas that I’d save. Even if there was a possibility we were tied together by magic, or fate.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Not that I’m complaining, I stretch lazily.

“Mr Aleksi said that I’ve been working too hard lately, and starting tomorrow I’d only be working during daylight hours, so I should have a day or two to readjust. I suppose it’s a bit of a promotion with the trials starting, I’ll be in charge of the daylight staff.” I was glad that my grandfather had listened to my almost hysterical, but entirely valiant speech about the threat of Arkin’s attack.

“Looks like you brought your work home with you.” I murmur softly, feeling the heat pooling back into my fingertips.

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“With the trials, and all the crazy deadlines, I have no idea how we’re gonna have time to do everything.” Cas’ eyes glint as he seemingly throws the papers, and pins me down onto the bed. His lips linger for a moment on the tip of my nose before he pulls away. “There’s flowers out on the bench, for, you know.”

“Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?” I feign hurt, watching the amber in his eyes turn to dark honey above me. Anything to resist the blush in my cheeks. All of the weird stupid little things I did, like go to the cemetery, or die in my sleep, meant absolutely nothing to him. Painfully human, I want to exterminate the demons, Cas.

“Well, this is possibly the longest time you’ve spent with anyone in a twenty four hour period, and you’re probably almost at the point where you’ll climb out the window just to escape.” My eyes tighten, and he grins wickedly. “But you could be here night and day, and i wouldn’t ask you to leave.”

I take the flowers to the grave, and sit a while, but my mind is preoccupied with the actual demon in my house. A pure blood vampire ghost just casually existing in a small circle of my own blood. Unlocking the door, I focus my breath on the spells existing in the room, and Azazel’s image deepens.

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“How does one kill a pure blood?” I ask entering the small apartment with a tired yawn. You’d think all the time I spent unconscious I would feel great, and my eyes would be clear of the dark shadows looming beneath. “Like any special techniques?”

“You don’t.” Azazel answers. I’m surprised he makes a sound at all, but I’ll be damned if I let it show.

I throw myself onto the couch and glare in his general direction. As of right now he was just a disconcerting art piece I acquired, that only I could see. He had thousands of years of stubbornness over me, and I was beginning to think I’d be the one to finally break.

“Are there immortal beings that aren’t vampire?” I ask somewhat curiously, but more annoyed than expectant. So far, I’d talked to my grandfather, who thought the best way to show me that fate was something we decided, was to split him and Cas up. That wasn’t huge in the grand scheme of changing destiny, and stopping the war.

“It depends. What’d you hear?” His voice is more sarcastic that usual. As if he’s only speaking to pass the time.

“I had a dream. Which I had been summoned into.” I state slowly. “Male. Got the feeling he was real old, but definitely wasn’t a vamper.” I scratch my elbow nervously. His silence was disconcerting, and I had no idea whether I was talking to myself more than him. “Dark hair. Dark blue eyes-“

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“I’d say more black, than blue.” He states dumbly, blinking at me with a strangely blank look upon his face. “I don’t know his real name. He was a slave back then, so I never cared to. Even after we fell. I was vampire, and he was still human.”

“Fall?” I question his old timey phrasing.

“Cursed. Humans don’t live forever without being cursed.” Azazel’s pale eyes suddenly seem alive, and vibrant. Whoever this guy was, the immortal human, whatever, Azazel knew him. Whoever he was, was enough to make him talk more than he had in a week. “But why on earth would he want to talk to you? Some small time necromancer-“

“Some small time necromancer who’s trapped you here.” My eyes glare defiance, before I straighten up considerably. “A small matter about how I can change the future.” I need him to keep talking. “He wants me to save the cure from being lost.”

“He was always a lazy bastard.” His voice is cold, but not entirely without emotion. Emotion? That was new for Azazel. “If it’s so important, why not save it himself, instead of putting some kid in charge? So very much like him. Heart in the right place, but always five years too late.”

I can’t help the way my stomach drops slightly. But I reinforce it with steel and forget about the time, and improbabilities of it all. Here and now, that’s what I had. “I can teach you some moves to fight, Arkin, that is.” Azazel says, as though it hurts his entire being to spit the words out. “If you’re still curious about how to beat him. It’s a long shot. Long. Loonnngg shot.”

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I can feel my skin heat beneath the surface at the words, and my mouth dries out at the very words. “You owe him a favour?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that.” Azazel pauses watching my face, and the emotions I struggle to keep in check. “My fight is over, and you seem compelled to fight. If you die, I might be stuck in this tiny room forever. It’s a matter of pride, little one, and if he thought you were worth the effort, then I suppose I owe him that much.”

“If I give you blood, will you tell me about him.” His face flickers painfully. Hunger, thirst. I suppose it had been over twenty years since he’d tasted a river of crimson blood. “About them.”

“He’s one of the fallen. Back when it was the gods you prayed to, and begged forgiveness for, back when they ruled the heavens. He was cursed, just like his sister, like me, like Arkin. Cursed with his incredible lack of conviction, and unreliability, and god he was always a lazy bastard. Always procrastinating. Daydreaming. I suppose it’s why he’s so good at dream seeking. He dropped off of the radar a few centuries ago, last I’d heard, he’d started hunting-“

“Vampires?” Remember every single word, I scream at myself, keep him talking.

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“No, a man like him doesn’t have to worry about vampires.” Azazel laughs. The sound is sudden and surprising, I never thought a sound like this was possible for him. What’s more surprising though, is the soft sweetness of it. “If magic created us both, then he is hunting those that lurk within the fringes. Demons.”

“Demons?” I croak.

“Don’t look so surprised.” His face softens just barely. Barely reverting to the cool calm that was Azazel. “There’s a lot out there you’ll never understand, and our kind is drawn to the peculiar.”

“Okay, new question. Can you tell me why they’ve all suddenly started fighting the war?” The pure bloods. “I mean they’re killing the humans, I thought that would be the opposite of their plan.”

“They don’t care about the humans in those towns.” He says quietly. “How many more towns have they taken now? Five, six, ten, twenty?” Azazel asks as though he’s truly curious. He’s never taken much of an interest, but for some reason, the mere mention of that guy in my dream, has him finally talking. Or perhaps it was my offer of blood.

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“Fourteen in the last month.” I respond. “If not the humans, then why?”

“Kill the humans, soldiers arrive.” He sighs as though the answer is obvious. “Fully trained human. Soldiers.”

“What’s wrong with the level e’s, no one has minded using them before.” I curl my lip up at the thought. Thousands of these vampires that had fallen to a basic primal shell of a being. They cared about killing, and that was it, I wasn’t even sure they even cared about the blood component.

“No vampire would do such a thing.” He sounds offended by the very idea of these vampires, unclaimed and unstable, burning only with the desire to kill. “I only saw a few during my lifespan. All born from Arkins twisted fangs. Of course they never lived longer than a few months, although, they did help propagate your human myths about us. The garlic, the mirrors, of course they didn’t want to see their reflections after they turned.”

“Arkin was the only one?” I ask with a certain shade of uncertainty in my voice. Thousands upon thousands. If it was ten or twenty I might believe it, but just one vampire, and all those bodies. All those creatures I’d been hunting down and executing these last few years.

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“Yes. The only thing that my queen ever turned was her mate. A Lycan.” Azazel’s voice is distasteful. And I can feel the true age of his words, the power in them. There weren’t any hybrids, not of that power. His eyes catch onto mine. “You understand, vampire blood infects everything, kills, everything. And Lycans are volatile, their blood is much the same. Such a union should never exist. Human hybrids are rare enough, maybe two in a millennia, and our blood is compatible for the most part.”

“Then how exactly?” I’d never heard of a Lycan becoming a vampire, I hadn’t even heard of a pregnancy, failure or otherwise. Such an idea. It sends a cold chill down my spine. Of course, I had never heard mention of this so called hybrid before, so it wasn’t like he was just lurking in the shadows.

“The rules that governed us were still quite new then, the world, and it’s conscious was still just beginning. Old as it was.” Goosebumps prickle my arm. Humans had always told stories of how the world began. Through gods, and fire, and angels. But when the vampires came out of the shadows, no one thought of asking them. “Powerful witches were born to counteract the occult power. Over the years, our witches having gotten weaker and fewer in between and the rules governing us stricter. Such a being could never survive now.”

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“And when did the witches get strong?” I murmur softly. Of course I was in no way a powerful witch rivalling that of the past, but I was here, now. I’d been risen from the dead half a dozen times, for this. Whatever this was. Whatever Cassiel was.

“When their rules, and their curses were not enough to protect the life they’d created.” His eyes glisten.

“Then, if I’ve done nothing else, I’ve lifted your curse, and raised you a few years from your hell sentence, or whatever they’ve got going on down there.” I sigh, rubbing my face in my hands. There was so much that I didn’t understand. So many great and wonderful, and great and terrible things I’d yet to discover, and my times was running out. Demons. God, Cas would have a field day with that.

“You misunderstand, I don’t go where you go, little girl.” His eyes cut into mine, a strange intensity burning with all the secrets he’d taken to his grave.

“Then you misunderstand me too, I don’t go where they go either.” I wasn’t one of them. The humans, the Lycans, those with one intact soul attached firmly to their beating hearts. I’d never be one of them.

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He laughs again, and just as the first time, it’s a miraculous sound. Sweet, and soft, and full of all the passion he’d withheld during his years alive. “Then perhaps. You. Larka. Are the peculiarity that he’s looking for.”