Hello again! Yet again I must stress that I own absolutely none of the
original NW characters and plotlines and ideas. But all the stuff I have
curiously concocted is mine, obviously.
I've decided to reply to my reviews for the last chapter, and I shall be keeping up this habit, coz I think it's a nice way to thank the people who review my story!
Neoen: Thanks for reviewing so much! I appreciate it totally. And the answer to your question is maybe and probably. To be honest I haven't thought too far ahead with this story, I'm just going with the flow.
KayE reN: I agree with the assassin's phase thing. Coz it rocks of course!
Lizzy: So you finally got round to reading it after all that nagging! Thanks for the compliments and stuff.
Raquel: I'd tell you if I knew! No, actually, I wouldn't, I'd keep it a surprise. Of course I'll keep writing, and thank you very much.
I must add a little advertisement for my new story, called The Dark Sound. It is about music, which I adore, and the Night World, which I also love. Think an innocent music journalist, the sinister Redfern Records label, vampires and intrigue. That little summary doesn't really do it justice, so go and read it. Please!
*Hello you weird person,* is a telepathic message. Got it?
Right, enough of the irrelevant blabbering! On with the story!
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Ella's head was spinning. The group of new arrivals hurried along corridor after corridor at breakneck pace, barely pausing for breath. A deathly hush had settled, like a blanket of thick snow - ice cold, emotionless, smothering all thought and speech. Even the gregarious Yazmin had been silenced by the grim and terrifying sense of foreboding that lingered tacitly in everybody's minds, though she walked beside Ella still. An unconscious alliance had been forged between the two, and though it remained unspoken, it was that bond of friendship that made them stick by one another.
Ella was dimly aware that they were ascending. Clambering heavenward within the gloomy depths castle, trying to reach the Council, no doubt. Briefly snatching a glance out of one large window, she was shocked to see that they were higher than the treetops. The leafy canopy stretched out for miles, and it felt as if she had the world at her feet. In a flash the picturesque snapshot was torn from her gaze as they continued down the hall. Ella tried to visualise the scene again, but it was forever lost to her for now.
"A little lower that the angels, aren't we?" remarked Yazmin with a snort, who had been following the subject of her dreamy musings. In reply, Ella smiled, not missing the irony in her statement. The group that she was an unwilling part of were clearly a lot lower than angels; in fact they were only a little higher than the devil himself.
Onwards and upwards, onwards and upwards. Ella was getting bored now. She was not tired of course; she was a lamia. She felt faintly hungry, but she had been hungrier in her lifetime and still resisted it. It was the maddening feeling of impotency, of utter listlessness, that was invoking the ever-present, indefatigable rebel in her. She was getting restless, irked and was teetering on the edge of reason.
Each and every corridor was the same - the red sandstone blocks interspersed with granite and other indeterminate rocks that made up the walls stood cold and bare, devoid of life and feeling, though there were a few random wall hangings and pictures. But they moved too fast to stop and examine them in detail, though from the ones she had glimpsed, she saw that drabness was a reoccurring theme.
Abruptly, they stopped. Ella, who had been silently contemplating escape or something drastic to dislodge herself from this awful situation, brushed up against a guy in front of her, as she had been momentarily oblivious of the halting. He turned round. Ella sensed that he was a 'shifter, it was unmistakable once you looked into his feral, fathomless eyes. They glowed menacingly, an opaque blackness that one could drown in. His hair was a tawny blonde, and a bit messy, and he looked old even as he appeared young. Towering aggressively over her, he narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance.
"Look where you put those clumsy feet of yours, bitch," he hissed in a tone only audible to him and her. Malevolence and dislike were evident in his voice, his threatening movements, and those ethereal eyes. Ella was shocked; there was no other way to describe it. What had she done to him recently? It seemed strange that such a small collision could have caused such a passionate, hateful outburst.
As she opened her mouth to counter his insulting and unnecessary rebuke, he swiftly turned away. She could now see the route ahead as the 'shifter boy moved towards it. Ella couldn't help but think he was a bit more than just a 'shifter. He seemed too powerful, and far too haughty.
"That's Aethelmaer. They say he's a dragon," whispered Yazmin.
"Dragons are long gone. They all sleep under the earth. Everyone knows that," said Ella quietly in return.
"You don't keep up much with Night World current affairs do you?" she chuckled to herself.
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see," she demurred. "Hurry up, you're holding up the queue." Yazmin playfully shoved Ella to the doorway.
It was composed of a wide arch of ornately carved, blue-veined marble that framed the plain but sturdy looking oaken door, metal bolts studded decoratively upon the rich panelling. With little effort, the so-called dragon boy Aethelmaer opened the door and strode in. It was heavy; it swung and slammed shut as soon as he had released it.
Ella shook her thick, wavy dark brown tresses, an instinctive, nervous gesture. The fear shone starkly in her velvety blue eyes as she too pushed at the panels. The door glided smoothly on well-oiled hinges. As her slender fingers made contact with the wood, she could feel power pulsating under the surface. It was spelled. Wood was bad enough, but magical wood made her feel even more uncomfortable. Making as little contact as possible with the thing, she opened it, and quickly darted inside.
She stood transfixed. It was a circular room, perfectly round, with a huge area of floor space and a soaring roof. The walls were a rich creamy colour, like the froth on a cappuccino. Windows that fitted the curvature of the room stretched from floor to ceiling, enclosed on two sides by sumptuous magnolia silk drapes tied back with richly embroidered golden tassels. The floor was covered in a soft, milk-white carpet that seemed as fluffy and soft as an eiderdown, and Ella felt as if she could curl up and sleep upon it forever. By the entrance to the door, a pair of smartly dressed 'wolves stood guard. She looked at them closely, just to see if John was one of them, but he was not.
Realising she was gawping, Ella hastily collected her scattered thoughts and strode over to the group, who were concentrated in the centre. She tried her best not to appear hurried, and she immediately shuttered her mind of with an iron curtain of mental power. Upon the walls, she noticed that there were many beautiful things. Even, she thought happily, a pair of curved scimitars that shone with a warm coppery glow on their magnificently keen edges. Ella admired them particularly, along with a sumptuous oil painting of a blonde haired, dark-robed woman, who was so seductively gorgeous Ella presumed that either she was of the Night World or the artist had made her picture a lot prettier than the original.
"They must be the Council then," a familiar, lazy voice said behind her.
Ella turned back to see Yazmin standing behind her. Ella gave her a questioning look. Being shorter than most others could be a pain at times. Yazmin indicated that she should move to the right a bit. As Ella did so, she saw them at last. The dreaded Council.
Again, fitting the room's circular shape perfectly, an arch-shaped desk sat, a piece of furniture that looked older than an antique, and just as well made. Two 'wolf guards stood at each end of the desk, making them four in number, six if you counted the two at the door. Ella stared at them all, unconsciously searching their features, hoping that John would be amongst them. He was, on her left. Ella withdrew her searching gaze almost in embarrassment as she caught his eye. Turning away, she spotted what looked suspiciously like a sword mark upon the smoothly planed mahogany, and shuddered to think what had gone on in this very room, on that very desk. Sitting at it were five people. The Council.
Ella analysed each one in turn. On the far left, she saw Aldred take his place, near John, in his smug and arrogant way, his face blank and bland, sitting up straight in his chair. It seemed typical that he had not mentioned that he was part of the Council.
On Aldred's right, there sat a seductive witch, whose green eyes shimmered with power as they knowingly and cruelly surveyed the group. Her lips were painted a glossy ruby red that matched her nails. The thin and delicate material of her silver-grey dress looked tissue paper thin, and clung to her statuesque body, giving the impression of a fairy or spirit as she girlishly tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. She took pleasure in eyeing up the male members of the group. Ella did a double take. She looked familiar. Ella's eyes were drawn to the painting that she had admired earlier. She saw the resemblance immediately. It was the same woman.
In the centre, a dark haired, grimly handsome vampire stood, as still and regal as a statue, his ever-changing eyes proclaiming that he was a Redfern. As his gaze slid over the sixteen boys and girls stood in the centre of the round chamber the colour changed from an electric blue to a dark colour almost as unreadable as the 'shifter boy's eyes. And just as freaky. Frowning to himself, he looked, well, intelligent and calculating, and very authoritative. His face was openly anxious and thoughtful, but at the same time there was that underlying current of danger that warned anyone to beware him. He was the head of the Council, presumably. This guy raised his hand in a solemn greeting, and as if by magic, the group were silenced.
On his right, sat another guy, a witch, who had shocking red hair that fell over his face and into his laughing eyes. They were an outrageous, amazingly pure violet colour reminded her of Harman eyes. He lounged lazily in his chair, running his hand though his messy hair, and fidgeted impatiently. He looked far more approachable and less intimidating than the others, but still he was a little bit disturbing. He looked amused, but why? His mirth seemed more like a teasing taunt than anything pleasant.
Finally, on the end, a quiet and lonesome figure sat, but one that exuded a kind of leashed fury and influence that was quite extraordinary. His shadowed face and hooded golden eyes looked a lot like a panther. So too did the graceful, prowling, predatory movements he made ever so often, and the secretive, stealthy and mysterious aura he held around him. Then Ella realised that he was a panther. Or at least, some sort of cat 'shifter.
Everyone's eyes focused expectantly upon the Redfern guy, Ella's included.
"Welcome to Bleeding Thistles," he began grandly. "I, Daegan Redfern, as leader of The Council and therefore of the BT facility extend my sincerest best wishes to you all. We all know that you will only leave here as successful assassins, the elite, the best, and the most deadly of all." Ella couldn't help but read something bad into this. She wondered what happened if you didn't become a successful assassin. Then she shoved the grotesque and dark thoughts from her conscious mind. There would be time to reflect on such things later.
Meanwhile, Daegan gestured to the right-hand members of the Council. "But let me introduce the others. You know Aldred Keyes already." Aldred stood and nodded at the group, stony faced and silent as ever. Daegan went on. "And this is the beautiful Orlana Aveline," he said, as she too stood, smiling particularly at the boys yet again.
Daegan turned to his left. "Ewan Harman," he intoned, indicating the redheaded witch, "and Ishmael Copiah." Copiah meant panther, so this confirmed her thoughts. Neither the witch nor the 'shifter stood up. They barely acknowledged their names at all, in fact.
He turned back to addressing the group. "You are now initiates of Bleeding Thistles. There will be no turning back from this point," he boomed. "You wi...
"Um, excuse me," an apologetic, female voice called out, interrupting Daegan's speech. He looked murderous for a moment, his perfect features distorted by rage, but as soon as this had flickered across his face, the emotion was gone. Ella wasn't even sure she'd seen it. She turned to locate the person who had spoken out. It was the perky, chatty and slightly irritating auburn haired girl. She had gone bright red with embarrassment, but the light of purpose shone in her hazel eyes as she stepped to the front of the crowd. Her hair was curly, almost bouncy, spiralling from her face in frizzy ringlets, and she wore a cute 'I love NY' spaghetti top and a pair of smart black trousers with loafers upon her feet. She was even shorter than Ella was, a little chubby, but very cheerful and attractive. Clearly, she was a witch; it was obvious by the mystical peridot pendant that hung round her neck and the black dahlia tattoo on her collarbone.
"You say there's no turning back," she said hesitantly. "But, you see I've been having second thoughts, and talking to Leah over there has made me come to some sort of conclusions, er, so I have thought about this a lot and." She looked at the sullen, dark haired girl, Leah, in almost a plea for help. Leah returned her gaze with a cool grey-eyed stare, contempt and dislike evident in the way her mouth curled in disgust as she looked at the redhead.
"I've decided that it would be best if I left now," she continued more confidently, looking at Daegan directly in the eye. Ella admired her spirit, but saw the tragedy of her small-minded stupidity. Had she not noticed the veiled threat? Did she not realise that this place was a one- way road? Ella prayed that the girl would somehow come to her senses and at least try to stick it out, but unfortunately, there was no God to grant her wish. "Saves you all the hassle later if I just go," she smiled. "This place isn't for me, really, and I am not the so..."
"What's your name?" asked Daegan, interrupting her back as a form of subtle revenge. Her smile faltered.
"Sophia Melton," Aldred promptly replied. "Witch." He said the last word with revulsion, showing he thought little of witches in general. He trained his frosty gaze upon the witch girl. Orlana leaned forward in anticipation, revealing her cleavage. Ella could hear Yazmin's restrained groan of disgust, and she agreed with her. Ella got the instinctive feeling that Orlana was a bitch, and a predictable one at that; she was after only one thing. Ewan smiled his cruel, pitiless grin at the girl, his eyes sparkling in unchecked pleasure. Ishmael looked uninterested, almost jaded, as he surveyed the scene calmly.
"So, my darling Sophia, you wish to leave us?" asked Daegan, looking amused as he advanced towards her as he rounded the desk.
Poor Sophia was looking nervous now. Ella looked desperately at John, sensing that something bad was going to happen, hoping he'd be able to do something. He showed signs of noticing her silent appeal, but he did not do anything. She saw that he could not do anything. What was one 'wolf against so many powerful Council members?
*It's OK,* she 'pathed to him sadly, lying about it all, hoping that he got the message and didn't do anything dumb. He responded by nodding his head imperceptibly, but she could she the rage in his dark, pain-filled eyes.
She tore her eyes from John and looked to Sophia. Daegan was standing only a hand's breadth from her, staring into her eyes. She was transfixed, mesmerised, her head tilted back to look into his face, a dreamy, dippy smile on her lips, those hazel eyes so unfocused and unconscious, their pupils dilated. Daegan had her in his power. Her neck was stretched, a rosy pink arc of flesh, her throat clearly visible.
It was clear what was going to happen next. Yet, Ella could not look away. She heard Yazmin gasp, a sharp intake of breath, as Daegan lowered his blue- black head over her throat. Sophia seemed to come back to life as his fangs entered her neck. Her eyes widened in fear and panic and she struggled against him, her flailing limbs so futile against his powerful body, the slow drainage of her blood and of her life so visible to all, as she became weaker and ash-pale.
"Stop!" cried a voice, a familiar voice. It was John. Ella decided to pretend that it wasn't really him, that she was dreaming. But she could not deny what her eyes showed her.
He had jumped athletically over the desk, and tried to run at Daegan, to pull him off Sophia. But Aldred alone had been enough to stop him in his tracks. The blond vampire had speedily run round the desk and easily restrained him for a moment, yanking his arms behind his back. John grimaced in agony. But still he did not stop his tireless efforts.
*Stop it, John!* He ignored her, even using her words in his shouting.
"Stop it!" His words rang out like the tolling of a funeral bell. "Sto..." Inevitably, finally, his voice was silenced as Aldred punched him in the head. John sank like a stone, falling to the floor like a ton of lead, bouncing once on the carpet before crashing down to rest. Plainly visible, a trickle of crimson, a river of red flowed from his temple.
Ella died inside as the blood flowed, and she didn't know why.
Daegan pulled away from Sophia. She too dropped to the floor, like a discarded piece of rubbish, pale, bloodless and lifeless. Even her vibrant hair seemed dulled in death, her whole body undertaking a gloomy pallor. A tinge of rust red from her neck dyed another patch on the carpet. Daegan bent down and checked John's pulse.
"Still alive," He stated flatly. Suddenly hope surged within Ella. "Deal with him later, Aldred," he added as an afterthought, signalling for three of the remaining five guards to remove the bodies. "Take Feverfew to his quarters," said Aldred as they left. Ella could not stop looking at the stains on the carpet - one small pool of vibrant red, another just a light smudge from a bloodless neck.
Daegan turned to the remaining fifteen initiates.
"And then there were fifteen," he said, humour in his voice. None of the initiates laughed. Daegan visibly turned serious. "As I was saying, you will obey us now. We are the law. We are your rulers and your kings and your masters. Learn well and we will make assassins of you. Fail, and you might take a different route." Everyone looked at the blood on the floor; it was irresistible at this point. A vivid symbol of the fate awaiting the failures.
"Now, Ewan and Ishmael will take the males to their quarters, and Orlana will do the same for you girls," said he, no remorse or guilt for the murder evident at all. He turned to Aldred. "Come. We have business to attend to." With that, Daegan and Aldred swept out of the door, followed by Ewan, Ishmael and the boys.
Ella's heart sank like a stone as Orlana glided towards the small group of four girls.
"Let's go," she said, her voice musical and teasing all at once, as she stalked out of the room, hips swaying seductively.
Ella gave Yazmin a look of tearful, terrified despair before following Orlana out of the room.
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Hee hee! Well, please click the blue "Go" button right now, because it is REVIEW TIME! Please review this chapter. It took me a year and a day to write! ^_^ Any sort of comment will be enjoyed and drooled over. Not literally of course. Hope you enjoyed it, and look out for the next chapter, which will be coming after FRENCH ORAL EXAMS AND MUSIC PRACTICAL EXAMS! Argh! How terrible!
I've decided to reply to my reviews for the last chapter, and I shall be keeping up this habit, coz I think it's a nice way to thank the people who review my story!
Neoen: Thanks for reviewing so much! I appreciate it totally. And the answer to your question is maybe and probably. To be honest I haven't thought too far ahead with this story, I'm just going with the flow.
KayE reN: I agree with the assassin's phase thing. Coz it rocks of course!
Lizzy: So you finally got round to reading it after all that nagging! Thanks for the compliments and stuff.
Raquel: I'd tell you if I knew! No, actually, I wouldn't, I'd keep it a surprise. Of course I'll keep writing, and thank you very much.
I must add a little advertisement for my new story, called The Dark Sound. It is about music, which I adore, and the Night World, which I also love. Think an innocent music journalist, the sinister Redfern Records label, vampires and intrigue. That little summary doesn't really do it justice, so go and read it. Please!
*Hello you weird person,* is a telepathic message. Got it?
Right, enough of the irrelevant blabbering! On with the story!
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Ella's head was spinning. The group of new arrivals hurried along corridor after corridor at breakneck pace, barely pausing for breath. A deathly hush had settled, like a blanket of thick snow - ice cold, emotionless, smothering all thought and speech. Even the gregarious Yazmin had been silenced by the grim and terrifying sense of foreboding that lingered tacitly in everybody's minds, though she walked beside Ella still. An unconscious alliance had been forged between the two, and though it remained unspoken, it was that bond of friendship that made them stick by one another.
Ella was dimly aware that they were ascending. Clambering heavenward within the gloomy depths castle, trying to reach the Council, no doubt. Briefly snatching a glance out of one large window, she was shocked to see that they were higher than the treetops. The leafy canopy stretched out for miles, and it felt as if she had the world at her feet. In a flash the picturesque snapshot was torn from her gaze as they continued down the hall. Ella tried to visualise the scene again, but it was forever lost to her for now.
"A little lower that the angels, aren't we?" remarked Yazmin with a snort, who had been following the subject of her dreamy musings. In reply, Ella smiled, not missing the irony in her statement. The group that she was an unwilling part of were clearly a lot lower than angels; in fact they were only a little higher than the devil himself.
Onwards and upwards, onwards and upwards. Ella was getting bored now. She was not tired of course; she was a lamia. She felt faintly hungry, but she had been hungrier in her lifetime and still resisted it. It was the maddening feeling of impotency, of utter listlessness, that was invoking the ever-present, indefatigable rebel in her. She was getting restless, irked and was teetering on the edge of reason.
Each and every corridor was the same - the red sandstone blocks interspersed with granite and other indeterminate rocks that made up the walls stood cold and bare, devoid of life and feeling, though there were a few random wall hangings and pictures. But they moved too fast to stop and examine them in detail, though from the ones she had glimpsed, she saw that drabness was a reoccurring theme.
Abruptly, they stopped. Ella, who had been silently contemplating escape or something drastic to dislodge herself from this awful situation, brushed up against a guy in front of her, as she had been momentarily oblivious of the halting. He turned round. Ella sensed that he was a 'shifter, it was unmistakable once you looked into his feral, fathomless eyes. They glowed menacingly, an opaque blackness that one could drown in. His hair was a tawny blonde, and a bit messy, and he looked old even as he appeared young. Towering aggressively over her, he narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance.
"Look where you put those clumsy feet of yours, bitch," he hissed in a tone only audible to him and her. Malevolence and dislike were evident in his voice, his threatening movements, and those ethereal eyes. Ella was shocked; there was no other way to describe it. What had she done to him recently? It seemed strange that such a small collision could have caused such a passionate, hateful outburst.
As she opened her mouth to counter his insulting and unnecessary rebuke, he swiftly turned away. She could now see the route ahead as the 'shifter boy moved towards it. Ella couldn't help but think he was a bit more than just a 'shifter. He seemed too powerful, and far too haughty.
"That's Aethelmaer. They say he's a dragon," whispered Yazmin.
"Dragons are long gone. They all sleep under the earth. Everyone knows that," said Ella quietly in return.
"You don't keep up much with Night World current affairs do you?" she chuckled to herself.
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see," she demurred. "Hurry up, you're holding up the queue." Yazmin playfully shoved Ella to the doorway.
It was composed of a wide arch of ornately carved, blue-veined marble that framed the plain but sturdy looking oaken door, metal bolts studded decoratively upon the rich panelling. With little effort, the so-called dragon boy Aethelmaer opened the door and strode in. It was heavy; it swung and slammed shut as soon as he had released it.
Ella shook her thick, wavy dark brown tresses, an instinctive, nervous gesture. The fear shone starkly in her velvety blue eyes as she too pushed at the panels. The door glided smoothly on well-oiled hinges. As her slender fingers made contact with the wood, she could feel power pulsating under the surface. It was spelled. Wood was bad enough, but magical wood made her feel even more uncomfortable. Making as little contact as possible with the thing, she opened it, and quickly darted inside.
She stood transfixed. It was a circular room, perfectly round, with a huge area of floor space and a soaring roof. The walls were a rich creamy colour, like the froth on a cappuccino. Windows that fitted the curvature of the room stretched from floor to ceiling, enclosed on two sides by sumptuous magnolia silk drapes tied back with richly embroidered golden tassels. The floor was covered in a soft, milk-white carpet that seemed as fluffy and soft as an eiderdown, and Ella felt as if she could curl up and sleep upon it forever. By the entrance to the door, a pair of smartly dressed 'wolves stood guard. She looked at them closely, just to see if John was one of them, but he was not.
Realising she was gawping, Ella hastily collected her scattered thoughts and strode over to the group, who were concentrated in the centre. She tried her best not to appear hurried, and she immediately shuttered her mind of with an iron curtain of mental power. Upon the walls, she noticed that there were many beautiful things. Even, she thought happily, a pair of curved scimitars that shone with a warm coppery glow on their magnificently keen edges. Ella admired them particularly, along with a sumptuous oil painting of a blonde haired, dark-robed woman, who was so seductively gorgeous Ella presumed that either she was of the Night World or the artist had made her picture a lot prettier than the original.
"They must be the Council then," a familiar, lazy voice said behind her.
Ella turned back to see Yazmin standing behind her. Ella gave her a questioning look. Being shorter than most others could be a pain at times. Yazmin indicated that she should move to the right a bit. As Ella did so, she saw them at last. The dreaded Council.
Again, fitting the room's circular shape perfectly, an arch-shaped desk sat, a piece of furniture that looked older than an antique, and just as well made. Two 'wolf guards stood at each end of the desk, making them four in number, six if you counted the two at the door. Ella stared at them all, unconsciously searching their features, hoping that John would be amongst them. He was, on her left. Ella withdrew her searching gaze almost in embarrassment as she caught his eye. Turning away, she spotted what looked suspiciously like a sword mark upon the smoothly planed mahogany, and shuddered to think what had gone on in this very room, on that very desk. Sitting at it were five people. The Council.
Ella analysed each one in turn. On the far left, she saw Aldred take his place, near John, in his smug and arrogant way, his face blank and bland, sitting up straight in his chair. It seemed typical that he had not mentioned that he was part of the Council.
On Aldred's right, there sat a seductive witch, whose green eyes shimmered with power as they knowingly and cruelly surveyed the group. Her lips were painted a glossy ruby red that matched her nails. The thin and delicate material of her silver-grey dress looked tissue paper thin, and clung to her statuesque body, giving the impression of a fairy or spirit as she girlishly tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. She took pleasure in eyeing up the male members of the group. Ella did a double take. She looked familiar. Ella's eyes were drawn to the painting that she had admired earlier. She saw the resemblance immediately. It was the same woman.
In the centre, a dark haired, grimly handsome vampire stood, as still and regal as a statue, his ever-changing eyes proclaiming that he was a Redfern. As his gaze slid over the sixteen boys and girls stood in the centre of the round chamber the colour changed from an electric blue to a dark colour almost as unreadable as the 'shifter boy's eyes. And just as freaky. Frowning to himself, he looked, well, intelligent and calculating, and very authoritative. His face was openly anxious and thoughtful, but at the same time there was that underlying current of danger that warned anyone to beware him. He was the head of the Council, presumably. This guy raised his hand in a solemn greeting, and as if by magic, the group were silenced.
On his right, sat another guy, a witch, who had shocking red hair that fell over his face and into his laughing eyes. They were an outrageous, amazingly pure violet colour reminded her of Harman eyes. He lounged lazily in his chair, running his hand though his messy hair, and fidgeted impatiently. He looked far more approachable and less intimidating than the others, but still he was a little bit disturbing. He looked amused, but why? His mirth seemed more like a teasing taunt than anything pleasant.
Finally, on the end, a quiet and lonesome figure sat, but one that exuded a kind of leashed fury and influence that was quite extraordinary. His shadowed face and hooded golden eyes looked a lot like a panther. So too did the graceful, prowling, predatory movements he made ever so often, and the secretive, stealthy and mysterious aura he held around him. Then Ella realised that he was a panther. Or at least, some sort of cat 'shifter.
Everyone's eyes focused expectantly upon the Redfern guy, Ella's included.
"Welcome to Bleeding Thistles," he began grandly. "I, Daegan Redfern, as leader of The Council and therefore of the BT facility extend my sincerest best wishes to you all. We all know that you will only leave here as successful assassins, the elite, the best, and the most deadly of all." Ella couldn't help but read something bad into this. She wondered what happened if you didn't become a successful assassin. Then she shoved the grotesque and dark thoughts from her conscious mind. There would be time to reflect on such things later.
Meanwhile, Daegan gestured to the right-hand members of the Council. "But let me introduce the others. You know Aldred Keyes already." Aldred stood and nodded at the group, stony faced and silent as ever. Daegan went on. "And this is the beautiful Orlana Aveline," he said, as she too stood, smiling particularly at the boys yet again.
Daegan turned to his left. "Ewan Harman," he intoned, indicating the redheaded witch, "and Ishmael Copiah." Copiah meant panther, so this confirmed her thoughts. Neither the witch nor the 'shifter stood up. They barely acknowledged their names at all, in fact.
He turned back to addressing the group. "You are now initiates of Bleeding Thistles. There will be no turning back from this point," he boomed. "You wi...
"Um, excuse me," an apologetic, female voice called out, interrupting Daegan's speech. He looked murderous for a moment, his perfect features distorted by rage, but as soon as this had flickered across his face, the emotion was gone. Ella wasn't even sure she'd seen it. She turned to locate the person who had spoken out. It was the perky, chatty and slightly irritating auburn haired girl. She had gone bright red with embarrassment, but the light of purpose shone in her hazel eyes as she stepped to the front of the crowd. Her hair was curly, almost bouncy, spiralling from her face in frizzy ringlets, and she wore a cute 'I love NY' spaghetti top and a pair of smart black trousers with loafers upon her feet. She was even shorter than Ella was, a little chubby, but very cheerful and attractive. Clearly, she was a witch; it was obvious by the mystical peridot pendant that hung round her neck and the black dahlia tattoo on her collarbone.
"You say there's no turning back," she said hesitantly. "But, you see I've been having second thoughts, and talking to Leah over there has made me come to some sort of conclusions, er, so I have thought about this a lot and." She looked at the sullen, dark haired girl, Leah, in almost a plea for help. Leah returned her gaze with a cool grey-eyed stare, contempt and dislike evident in the way her mouth curled in disgust as she looked at the redhead.
"I've decided that it would be best if I left now," she continued more confidently, looking at Daegan directly in the eye. Ella admired her spirit, but saw the tragedy of her small-minded stupidity. Had she not noticed the veiled threat? Did she not realise that this place was a one- way road? Ella prayed that the girl would somehow come to her senses and at least try to stick it out, but unfortunately, there was no God to grant her wish. "Saves you all the hassle later if I just go," she smiled. "This place isn't for me, really, and I am not the so..."
"What's your name?" asked Daegan, interrupting her back as a form of subtle revenge. Her smile faltered.
"Sophia Melton," Aldred promptly replied. "Witch." He said the last word with revulsion, showing he thought little of witches in general. He trained his frosty gaze upon the witch girl. Orlana leaned forward in anticipation, revealing her cleavage. Ella could hear Yazmin's restrained groan of disgust, and she agreed with her. Ella got the instinctive feeling that Orlana was a bitch, and a predictable one at that; she was after only one thing. Ewan smiled his cruel, pitiless grin at the girl, his eyes sparkling in unchecked pleasure. Ishmael looked uninterested, almost jaded, as he surveyed the scene calmly.
"So, my darling Sophia, you wish to leave us?" asked Daegan, looking amused as he advanced towards her as he rounded the desk.
Poor Sophia was looking nervous now. Ella looked desperately at John, sensing that something bad was going to happen, hoping he'd be able to do something. He showed signs of noticing her silent appeal, but he did not do anything. She saw that he could not do anything. What was one 'wolf against so many powerful Council members?
*It's OK,* she 'pathed to him sadly, lying about it all, hoping that he got the message and didn't do anything dumb. He responded by nodding his head imperceptibly, but she could she the rage in his dark, pain-filled eyes.
She tore her eyes from John and looked to Sophia. Daegan was standing only a hand's breadth from her, staring into her eyes. She was transfixed, mesmerised, her head tilted back to look into his face, a dreamy, dippy smile on her lips, those hazel eyes so unfocused and unconscious, their pupils dilated. Daegan had her in his power. Her neck was stretched, a rosy pink arc of flesh, her throat clearly visible.
It was clear what was going to happen next. Yet, Ella could not look away. She heard Yazmin gasp, a sharp intake of breath, as Daegan lowered his blue- black head over her throat. Sophia seemed to come back to life as his fangs entered her neck. Her eyes widened in fear and panic and she struggled against him, her flailing limbs so futile against his powerful body, the slow drainage of her blood and of her life so visible to all, as she became weaker and ash-pale.
"Stop!" cried a voice, a familiar voice. It was John. Ella decided to pretend that it wasn't really him, that she was dreaming. But she could not deny what her eyes showed her.
He had jumped athletically over the desk, and tried to run at Daegan, to pull him off Sophia. But Aldred alone had been enough to stop him in his tracks. The blond vampire had speedily run round the desk and easily restrained him for a moment, yanking his arms behind his back. John grimaced in agony. But still he did not stop his tireless efforts.
*Stop it, John!* He ignored her, even using her words in his shouting.
"Stop it!" His words rang out like the tolling of a funeral bell. "Sto..." Inevitably, finally, his voice was silenced as Aldred punched him in the head. John sank like a stone, falling to the floor like a ton of lead, bouncing once on the carpet before crashing down to rest. Plainly visible, a trickle of crimson, a river of red flowed from his temple.
Ella died inside as the blood flowed, and she didn't know why.
Daegan pulled away from Sophia. She too dropped to the floor, like a discarded piece of rubbish, pale, bloodless and lifeless. Even her vibrant hair seemed dulled in death, her whole body undertaking a gloomy pallor. A tinge of rust red from her neck dyed another patch on the carpet. Daegan bent down and checked John's pulse.
"Still alive," He stated flatly. Suddenly hope surged within Ella. "Deal with him later, Aldred," he added as an afterthought, signalling for three of the remaining five guards to remove the bodies. "Take Feverfew to his quarters," said Aldred as they left. Ella could not stop looking at the stains on the carpet - one small pool of vibrant red, another just a light smudge from a bloodless neck.
Daegan turned to the remaining fifteen initiates.
"And then there were fifteen," he said, humour in his voice. None of the initiates laughed. Daegan visibly turned serious. "As I was saying, you will obey us now. We are the law. We are your rulers and your kings and your masters. Learn well and we will make assassins of you. Fail, and you might take a different route." Everyone looked at the blood on the floor; it was irresistible at this point. A vivid symbol of the fate awaiting the failures.
"Now, Ewan and Ishmael will take the males to their quarters, and Orlana will do the same for you girls," said he, no remorse or guilt for the murder evident at all. He turned to Aldred. "Come. We have business to attend to." With that, Daegan and Aldred swept out of the door, followed by Ewan, Ishmael and the boys.
Ella's heart sank like a stone as Orlana glided towards the small group of four girls.
"Let's go," she said, her voice musical and teasing all at once, as she stalked out of the room, hips swaying seductively.
Ella gave Yazmin a look of tearful, terrified despair before following Orlana out of the room.
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Hee hee! Well, please click the blue "Go" button right now, because it is REVIEW TIME! Please review this chapter. It took me a year and a day to write! ^_^ Any sort of comment will be enjoyed and drooled over. Not literally of course. Hope you enjoyed it, and look out for the next chapter, which will be coming after FRENCH ORAL EXAMS AND MUSIC PRACTICAL EXAMS! Argh! How terrible!