Strange Dreams
She found herself staring into a pair of beautiful bright green eyes. They were staring right back into hers with love, adoration and relief. There was something else she could read in them, but she couldn't tell what it was.
"You're here," she said, her voice laced with relief.
"Of course, my love. I will always be here for you," he answered. He then grabbed her hands and held them up to his chest as he pulled her closer, then leaned down and placed his soft lips against hers in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. However, it didn't last long as he pulled away rather quickly.
She frowned, slightly, gazing up at him with worry evident in her eyes and voice as she asked him what was wrong. He told her it was almost time, but she did not understand what he meant by that.
Her frown deepened with her confusion. "Time for what? What's wrong?" she pressed.
" For— "
Oh, baby, give me one more chance to show you that I love you! Won't you please let me back in your heart? Oh, darlin', I was blind to let you go, but now since I see you in his arms: I want you back! Yes, I do—
SMASH!
"No, I don't," Delilah mumbled into her pillow after lazily smashing the musically enchanted alarm clock.
"I hope you didn't smash your alarm clock again!"
Delilah groaned. "If I did?"
The door of her room opened, revealing Clarisse Darrell, or rather Lara as she preferred to be called, standing there with her hands on her hips, brows raised.
"Delilah, this is the twelfth one you've broken in over a week, and it's been three weeks that you've been waking up past lunch time. What's going on?"
Delilah sighed, sitting up and leaning her back against the headboard of her bed. It felt strange living with Lara, Daren, and Seth. Their home withheld this warm and welcoming atmosphere, but she'd gotten so used to living on her own— even living with the Hayes, and the Turnbulls had felt rather strange to her. She didn't even feel like an Alpha anymore. She felt like those wolves that lived without a pack.
Like a loner, and she didn't like feeling so.
She hadn't gotten used to living and interacting openly with other people (even if she's lived for almost three whole years in a castle with over six hundred people— she was mostly always on her own if she wasn't with the rest of the golden quartet or her brother, and she had a lone dorm), but, even if she had gotten used to being around those three, she still didn't feel entirely comfortable telling them everything, especially not since she left Hogwarts for the summer; she felt shaken up for some reason. Something was going to happen. But what? She hadn't had any visions since that night before she and her best friends had confronted Sirius in the Whomping Willow. All she'd had since the beginning of that summer was the same strange dream where she'd find herself in the woods with a familiar looking man. A man with bright green eyes—
Who the heck was he?
"Delilah!"
"What?"
"What's going on?" She didn't reply. Lara sighed. "You're not gonna tell me, are you?"
"Just be glad I don't wake up screaming anymore," Delilah mumbled, getting off her bed. She shifted around, making it up, and placed it pattern-side down, and folded the top of the sheet over her duvet, the pattern revealing a tad bit from under it.
Lara groaned. "Delilah, look, I know I'm not the best aunt out there—"
"Second cousin."
"Close enough! Dels, my point is that I'm really trying, okay? I know this is all different for you, but we're trying to help you—"
"Have you ever been tortured in your sleep?"
Lara gave her a perplexed look. "What?"
"Have you ever been tortured in your sleep?" she repeated. Lara was too puzzled now to answer. "Or even awake— have you ever had people chasing you and trying to kill you since the moment you were born?"
Lara didn't know how to answer.
"No?" Delilah gave her an empty smile before making her way over to her wardrobe. "What about growing up without a family? With one of your natural enemies?" She opened the door of her closet. "Not even that?"
She laughed. The pain Lara was beginning to feel for Delilah was indescribable; the girl behind the smile was broken and she never knew it. She had them fooled.
"Have you ever dreamed of someone you never knew, yet you feel like you once did?" her voice was soft now.
"Are you afraid?" Lara asked her quietly. The interrupting question was random, and, frankly, Lara had no idea why she asked Delilah that, but she had to know the answer to that question.
"Afraid?" Delilah asked, a smile on her face, as she absentmindedly brought a hand up to the right side of her neck. She chuckled humorlessly, shaking her head. "I'm an Alpha." The way she said it was as though she was trying to reassure herself.
"Alphas don't know fear."
That was a lie. She'd lived in fear for seven years— no, her whole life she'd lived in fear. She'd known the second she was born that she was going to live a hellish life, yet part of her hadn't wanted to believe that. It was hard to not believe it anymore when the Adams had taken her.
She sighed, shaking her head again, her smile fading. "Can you please leave? I have to change."
She changed in less than three minutes, but, even then, she didn't leave her room. She grabbed the book she'd never gotten around to finish since she'd left the orphanage; she still had it, along with the red wine jewelry box Alice had given to her all those years ago, which surprised her what with everything that has happened in the past few years at Hogwarts. When she opened the book, the first sentence to jump to her eyes was:
"When you know that something is dying inside you, you learn not to put much trust in the random vitalities of the fleeting moment."
Something stirred inside of her when she read it. She didn't know what it was or why, but she had a feeling it would mean something more to her further on, if not this year, then the next, but it would mean something soon.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Coughing slightly, Delilah closed her book as she stood from where she sat on the divan in the corner of her room, and made her way out of her room, down the stairs and to the front door. It was the dry-cleaner's delivery boy coming to deliver Delilah's uniform. After giving him an extra tip, Delilah closed the door and made her way back toward the stairs, though stopped when she was spoken to.
"Why do you insist on dressing up like that?" Lara asked, eyeing the young fourteen year-old's outfit.
Delilah looked down at her attire; she was wearing a rather large red-wine t-shirt with a matching pair of leggings and new sneakers. Over the shirt and tight trousers, she had slipped on modern fitting overall shorts, which had fully adjustable straps, functional buttons at the side, belt loops and five functional pockets, and layered over her tailored shirt.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
It was as though the earlier heavy conversation was completely forgotten.
Lara rolled her eyes. "You dress up like a boy, you—"
"Wha— I take offense, that is not true!"
"— have the baggiest oversized clothes I have ever seen!"
Delilah sighed. "That is not true," she repeated. "I mean, look at what I'm wearing: I'm wearing very short shorts— it should be illegal to wear them this short."
"You're wearing tights under your shorts, and even they are baggy on you."
Daren, her uncle, sighed, putting his newspaper down. "Lara, telling her to eat more would have sufficed."
But Lara only ignored him. "Goddess— Delilah, you work at one of the fanciest restaurants in England as a waitress, not a butler!" she exclaimed herself, motioning toward the black tuxedo Delilah was holding, which was the uniform the delivery boy brought in.
"Okay, first of all... the theme just so happens to be 'maids and butlers'. Second of all, there is no way I'm walking around Mayfair in a short drape—"
"Dress."
"— that will barely hide my rear. I'm fine with wearing a tux, and, besides, my boss doesn't mind."
"Delilah, you're a girl. You. Have. To. Dress. Like. A. Girl. Especially at One Mayfair!"
Delilah sighed and rolled her eyes as she ran a hand through her hair.
One Mayfair used to be a brothel, back when it had first been built in the 1820s, though Delilah was glad it wasn't one anymore as she now worked as a server in the enormous, fancy cabaret-like restaurant. She had started working there two weeks right after the summer vacation had begun. Delilah really liked that job, but, the main downside to it was that she had to stop the regular visits she'd been giving Harry, to keep him company while he was at the Dursleys. At least he was going to be joining Ron and his family soon, but she still felt guilty for breaking her promise of coming to visit him all the time.
"You know what?" Lara said. "I'm gonna treat you to makeover at the department store."
Delilah squinted. "Makeover? Where stuck-up girls make snooty faces at us, while they pluck our eyebrows until we scream, and then they tell us, 'Well, you'd be pretty if you took care of your skin'?" she said, the last part in a higher pitched voice, before giving Lara a flat look. "Pass."
Lara groaned. "This is not what I imagined having another girl in the house would be like."
Seth looked up from where he laid on a couch and gave his sister a curious look. "How do you even know they do that?" he asked her.
She faked a thoughtful look. "Well, let's see... I have a best friend that grew up as a Muggle. I knew a few girls back at the orphanage who were Muggles... oh, and did you know there's such thing as books?" she asked, faking a surprised gasp, making her brother roll his eyes at her playfulness. "No, but really, all joking aside, you'd be surprised by how many books actually talk about that kind of stuff. And, I may not exactly be innocent, but this face," she motioned toward her face, "is very innocent, and I am not letting it get tortured."
Lara snorted, slumping down on another couch. "You're telling me; you have jungles for eyebrows."
Delilah rolled her eyes. "Ha ha," she said, quickly clearing her throat to hide the cough that was just about to come out.
Seth frowned, noticing that. He was about to talk about it, but cut himself off when his sister took a hold of his long hair and began to absentmindedly play with it as she tilted her head to the side.
"Remind me to cut your hair soon," was all she said before disappearing up the stairs and into her room.
Daren frowned. "Is it just me, or has she gotten more bizarre?"
"You're not the only one who thinks that, Daren," Lara replied with a sigh.
Evening and night went by quickly, though it felt like forever to Delilah. The restaurant had been much more packed than it usually was. It was restless and stressful, and the job was incredibly tedious...
At least it's Thursday; that means one day closer to Friday, and then I'll be home free on Saturday, she thought tiredly as the aching in her head pounded harder and harder.
It was just another night at One Mayfair, though it was a little worse than other nights; the previous night, Delilah had to go home later than usual, then when she went to sleep, half her dreams were nightmares, while the other half was that same dream she'd been having for almost two months now. She'd barely eaten the previous day and had nothing to eat the current day; she ran right into the back door because she was almost late, her muscles were abnormally sore; she was aching and hurting all over the place. Stars were dancing all around her vision; she had a killer headache, she felt nauseous— all in all, she felt like a Muggle going through a hangover.
As had become per usual, before work she welcomed her fellow waiters and waitresses with a smile as they started their evening; smiling and gently directing every customer to a table, politely asking for their order, bringing it back to them with a smile... honestly, she didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.
All she wanted was some real sleep.
She coughed lightly and was just walking back into the private room for employees when she stumbled into something hard. Her footing was caught off guard, and her eyes widened in shock as she felt herself stumble. She felt the weight of gravity pulling her down when a hand wrapped around her wrist, catching her from her impending doom. Her head spun in a daze, and she shut her eyes closed tightly to try and refocus. When she opened her eyes, she looked into a pair of familiar bright green hues, though before she could say anything, she blinked for a second, and the man to have saved her from her fall was gone the next.
No name, no face.
Sighing, she put her apron away, then began to walk toward the back door. "Bye, Clary, have a good night!" she said softly.
Everybody else had gone a bit earlier than her since Clary Smith, her boss' right-hand girl and niece, always gave her extra for cleaning up the restaurant.
"Bye, Deli. Rest well; don't want you getting sick now, do we?"
Delilah let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "You're right. Same time tomorrow?"
"Yup― oh, hey! A week from now, next month, you'll have to come in earlier."
Delilah gave her a weird look, but chuckled. "A month from now... why are you telling me what's a month ahead?"
"Well, we're going to have a big event."
"Bigger than usual?" Delilah asked, her voice straining a bit. Usually, when they had a big event, they'd only say it was an event, so, if Clary was saying it was a big one... Delilah already felt overwhelmed, even if it was going to happen in a month.
Clary hummed. "We're going to be opening at four that day; the mayor's comin'."
Delilah's brows raised in surprise. "The Mayor?" Clary nodded. "Wow, I never would've imagined..."
"Me neither, but this place is getting bigger on events; it'll be his matrimonial anniversary and his little boy's birthday too, and they chose One Mayfair!"
"So it'll be a double take?"
"Yup."
"Alright, is twelve going to be alright?"
"Twelve is perfect."
"Alright, see you tomorrow."
"Bye!"
As soon as she closed the door behind herself, the man from earlier popped his way back into her mind. Those eyes... he looked so familiar— she sighed; it was like the whole man in her dreams thing again. Delilah didn't know what to make of it, though, presently, there wasn't much she could make of it as her focus kept wavering and her coughing became more violent. Her heart practically had an attack when a voice called out her name.
She took in a deep breath and cleared her throat before turning around. It was Stephen Appleby, her boss' son. He was a year younger than her, so he didn't work there yet, but he still hung around and helped sometimes. They met when she came looking for a job, and he'd begun to tell her off about it once he'd learned she was only about a year older than him and not as old as she appeared to be. Of course, his mother paid him no mind about it and gave her the job almost immediately because Delilah "is so cute and would make a perfect waitress at the house!" At the time, his mother, having some Chinese and Japanese roots in her ancestry apart from the English and Russian, had some weird obsession with maids' dresses mainly due to the many Anime books she'd read when she was younger, and she had all her waitresses dress like maids, while the waiters dressed like butlers. And when she imagined what Delilah would look like in a cute maid's dress, she practically exploded with excitement. Eventually, the thrill died down when Delilah made it clear from the first day that she would not wear a dress and would not dance, or sing, or perform anything, even if it's for the entertainment of the customers, and would only take orders and serve tables, and help with the cleaning afterward, if so was needed.
Delilah was a good worker, and that was what made Mr. and Mrs. Appleby overlook the fact that she chose to wear then men's uniform to work instead of one of the dresses assigned for the women, but they worried about her because she always overworked herself. She stayed extra hours, did extra shifts; it was too much for a fourteen-year-old, she shouldn't be able to handle so much, yet she did, and even Lara and Daren would worry and ask her why she tried and did so; she didn't really need the money as her vault had plenty of it already.
"I don't want to spend what I haven't earned. Besides, I've spent enough of it in my first three years, I need to pay it back," she would repeat.
She felt disrespectful for spending money that wasn't hers, even though it was now under her name. Her mother had earned it, and her grandparents beforehand; it just doesn't feel right to spend something that belongs to the deceased. It wasn't just that; even from the much she'd gotten from Sirius, she hadn't spent a dime. She didn't want to spend what she didn't work hard to earn; that's what Alphas are supposed to do. Besides, Sirius might need his money someday, albeit him reassuring her in the few letters he'd sent her that he wouldn't. She knew he would; when he'd get his freedom back, he would have to catch up on the lot he'd missed, starting with new clothes.
Despite her excuses, though, nobody stopped worrying. They noticed the bags under her eyes, how she'd stumble over her own feet (and she's possibly one of the most coordinated people in the world), the struggle she seemed to go through when she would try to fight back a cough; Seth wouldn't dare to say it out loud, but he'd hear her at night, mumbling incoherently in her sleep, at times whimpering, and when she'd wake up, she'd be coughing so loud, and even if she puts a spell on her room every night so no one would hear her, he still could as he resided in the bedroom right beside hers and could hear her through the ventilation, or when their windows would coincidentally be open at the same time. It pained him every other morning to see her act as though nothing happened. He didn't wish to see her as broken as that night she'd confessed to him all those months ago in Hogwarts, but he just wished she would tell him more. Let him in more. Let him help her before the impossible happened, and she gets sick.
He'd try. Daren would try. Lara would try. But Delilah would just smile and deny.
When her bosses would tell her of their worries for her, she would always wave them off with a smile, telling them she couldn't get sick. They, being a family of magic and knowing she was a witch in training at Hogwarts, believed she made potions to avoid getting sick, but, of course, they didn't know of her being a hybrid, nor how the many creatures she was were immune to Muggle diseases. But, though she would never admit it aloud, that was what secretly worried Delilah herself; she was a freaky witchy hybrid, with the strongest immune system in the world— she shouldn't be able to get sick, yet, there she'd been, for the past two weeks, practically coughing her guts out when no one was looking.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, though the cough falling from her mouth countered her reassurance. It was then followed by another, and another, and, soon, she was going through another coughing fit, Stephen placing a hand on her back, his other holding her arm to keep her from falling.
"I thought you said you couldn't get sick," he said softly once the coughing fit had died out.
Delilah frowned, wincing slightly as she let out a heavy sigh. "I can't."
"Do you want me to come with you? For safety reasons, obviously; women shouldn't be out on the streets this late," he offered.
Delilah shook her head and stepped backward and away from him. "I know, but I'll be fine. I'm not a famous witch for no reason, Stephen," she told him, laughing lightly in the end, only to find herself coughing again, almost falling over her own feet.
Clearing her throat once more, she steadied herself, taking a deep breath. "Okay, now I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. See you tomorrow."
And with that, she turned and began to walk away, thinking— hoping he'd left her be, but, to her dismay, his footsteps trailed after her.
"Never mind, then," she mumbled, her eyebrow twitching in slight irritation, letting him continue to trail behind her. She knew he was only looking out for her, but, she couldn't help but get annoyed at how much everyone was hovering over her lately.
A couple of minutes passed, a couple of blocks— Only a few more feet until I reach the house, she thought, sighing as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her blazer. The walk back was quiet between them, with the exception of a few questions inquired by Stephen, and short replies from Delilah. Her physical state was still no good, not to mention the added walking made her feet hurt. Her head still pounded, spots still twinkled in her slowly blackening vision, the world spun around her; she didn't know how much further she could go on.
"Hey, you alright?" Stephen asked, looking over at her.
She didn't give him a response as she had stopped in her tracks, trying to catch her breath. She started wheezing and gasping for breath as if she was a regular Muggle that had just run a marathon, legs giving into pressure as she sat on the curb of the sidewalk. All the spinning made her headache worsen, and nausea started up again, making her swallow countless times in fear of throwing up. She buried her head in her hands, closing her eyes in attempts to slow down or stop the spinning; it somewhat did.
"Delilah," Stephen crouched down next to her, taking her hands in his larger ones.
Gently grasping her chin, he tilted her head up so she was facing him. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and she closed eyes; his cold hand against her unusually hotter skin felt comforting.
"You're running a fever," he stated, getting back up and offering a hand in her direction.
She shook her head, "No, I'm fine," she panted, swallowing to moisten her dry throat. "I can't be— I'm positive— it's just really hot outside and I'm wearing a tuxedo, a-and—"
"Delilah," he interrupted her, and she snapped her head back up to him.
She looked from his outstretched limb to his calm expression, and then back to his hand. Weakly, she placed her hand in his and curled her unusually clammy fingers around his comparatively colder ones.
"Think you can walk back home?" he asked, tugging her up to his level.
She nodded her head affirmatively, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine—"
As soon as she stood up, though, she immediately felt faint and lightheaded as millions of black dots covered the world around her. She felt her knees started to tremble beneath her weight and she would've collapsed to the floor if it weren't for Stephen catching her in the nick of time.
"Sure you are," he muttered sarcastically, and proceeded to pick her up and into his arms, one arm wrapped around her back while the other was supporting her legs from underneath her knees. In shock, she pressed a hand onto his chest and clung closer to his body.
She weakly pouted as he continued walking down the road, "It was just vertigo."
"Which is very unusual coming from you, might I add," said Stephen.
"How would you know? You've barely known me for a month. This is nothing, it's because I sat up so quickly and too much blood rushed to my head," she explained, forcing herself to keep her eyes open and from relaxing in his arms.
Stephen rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it was, but you're still too weak to walk all the way back to your house," he countered, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. That soon went away, though, as he looked ahead, a small frown on his face. "Deli, how many hours of sleep did you get last night?"
Delilah shrugged, eyes drooping. "About two or three..." she mumbled, stifling back a yawn.
He glared at her, but didn't say any more about it as he was quick to change the subject. "Aren't you quite the cuddler," he commented, with a small grin on his face.
"Shut up, I have my reasons," she muttered.
Though he didn't stop there. "Say, don't you hate men? What makes me an exception?" he asked in a joking manner.
"Are you seriously asking that to the girl who has a brother and two best friends that happen to be boys?"
Stephen sighed. "It's just... the way you act around the other guys... even the male customers. You put on a smile, but your eyes are distant and unwilling... reluctant towards men. Every time someone says boyfriend, you act as though you've never heard the word." Her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. "And you always stay as far away as possible from anyone, even more so when they're from your opposite sex."
"You little brat, why don't you understand? There. Is. No. Escape. You are not going away, so come back here so I can finish with you."
Delilah blinked, breathing hard. "I have my reasons," she repeated in a whisper, tugging on Stephen's arm to let her down as they reached the front steps of Daren's house.
"Thank you for carrying me all the way ho—" She cut herself off, clearing her throat. "All the way here."
Stephen shrugged. "Not a problem. By the way, you don't have to come in tomorrow if you don't w—"
"I'll be there."
He sighed. "Fine, then at least rest and take care of yourself tonight."
Delilah nodded. "Will do."
Exchanging their final farewells for the night, Stephen turned on his heels and walked off into the night. Running a hand through her hair with a sigh, Delilah turned and walked up the steps, tiredly waving her hand to magically open the door soundlessly. Stepping inside, she was greeted by the soft snores coming from dark brown Bernese Mountain dog, who slept on his dog mat near the front door, and only a bit of light, thus of the lit lantern in the parlor.
They'd all probably already gone to sleep, too.
She closed the door behind her, locking it, then stepped forward, leaned down and gently patted Dopey, who had opened his eyes at the ghostly sound of her movements, on the head. The dog hummed in contentment before resting his head back on his paws, closing his thin eyelids.
Delilah went to the parlor and switched the light off before silently making her way up the stairs and into her room. She flicked the lights on and softly closed the door behind herself, sighing and smiling slightly at the phoenix sleeping on the perch by the window.
Setting her keys on the small, tall table by the door, she proceeded by changing out of her tuxedo before slipping on some more comfortable clothes to sleep in. She didn't realize how tired she really was until her head hit the large pillows on her twin-sized bed, and darkness instantly consumed her.
Her eyes fluttered open, slightly startled by the familiar yet unfamiliar voice. She glanced around, eyes widening in surprise when she found herself sitting once again in the middle of beautiful meadow.
"Delilah..." the voice called out again.
This made her stand up, though she frowned as she did when she found herself struggling a bit to do so. She looked down and found herself stuffed into a beautiful black gown. The black satin had shine and depth, and beautifully accented the hand beading made of seed beads, swarovski crystals, and montees. The train and the hem edge were covered with pleats, the back of the dress lacing up in a corseted style. The bodice had structure and boning for a smooth, even fit, and looked perfect on her with the black heeled slippers they'd been matched with— except for the fact that she didn't like wearing dresses, and had no idea how to walk in heels!
Shuddering slightly, she looked up and glanced around, seeking to find out where the voice was coming from. She asked who was there as she kept shifting her gaze around, her eyes instinctively shifting toward what seemed to be the deeper part of the forest.
"Lilah, it's me. I'm right here," the voice whispered right in her ear, making her heart thump hard against her chest.
When she turned, no one was there until she turned back around. She found herself staring into a pair of beautiful bright green eyes. They were staring right back into hers with love, adoration and relief. There was something else she could read in them, but she couldn't tell what it was.
"You're here," she said, her voice laced with relief.
"Of course, my love. I will always be here for you," he answered. He then grabbed her hands and held them up to his chest as he pulled her closer, then leaned down and placed his soft lips against hers in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. However, it didn't last long as he pulled away rather quickly.
She frowned, slightly, gazing up at him with worry evident in her eyes and voice as she asked him what was wrong. He told her it was almost time, but she did not understand what he meant by that.
Her frown deepened with her confusion. "Time for what? What's wrong?" she pressed.
"For..."
"Delilah!"
As soon as a faint whimper reached his ears, Seth's eyes snapped open and groggily looked around. It was dark, and the only source of light was a single ray of moonlight piercing through the silk drapes covering his window. The whimper reached his ears once more, and he instantly sat up.
What time is it?
He glanced toward his left where, on the wooden nightstand that separated his bed from the transfigured one, his digital alarm clock sat silently marking the seconds to the next minute and hour.
3:59:51
Tearing his gaze from the clock, Seth glanced toward the door, hesitant. Should he...? Or maybe he should wait a bit...
Straining his neck a tad bit, Seth opened his hearing to the maximum. On the dog mat near the entrance, Dopey was fast asleep, snoring lightly. In the kitchen lavatory, stray drops of water were sneaking their way out from the aerator and onto the sink, creating a metallic plinking sound, which was, though soft, rather loud. In the room at the end of the hall, his uncle was snoring a bit louder than their dog, though that wasn't anything unusual; in the room beside Daren's, Lara slept soundlessly. In his own room, Seth could hear his own silent breathing, and thus of the other resident in his room apart from Arrow, their family owl, who was sleeping in his room for the night, hooting lowly in his slumber. In the room neighboring his though, ignoring the cat-like purr emitted from the phoenix sleeping in there, Seth finally realized who was producing the whimpers and instantly began to push his covers away from himself, though, albeit him having strength much greater than thus of a regular human, it was rather hard as he had so many covers and blankets. Why did he even have so many? His temperature was way higher than the average.
Suddenly, he froze when the whimpers and the cat-like purrs stopped. He jumped back, startled, when a poof of fire appeared in front of him. He coughed, waving away the smoke that was blowing on his face.
"What's going on?"
Seth turned to the figure on the other bed that had lit the lamp on the nightstand. He shrugged, still waving the smoke from his face.
"I don't know, man."
When the smoke cleared, his sister's fiery red and slightly multicolored phoenix stood there on his bed.
"Whoa."
Seth looked up with a halfhearted grin. "I know— ow! Blaze!" He gave the phoenix a reproachful look. "What the heck?!"
But Blaze only continued to tug on his sleeve in a slightly urgent manner, causing Seth to frown. The boy that had been laying on his own bed stood and walked over to Seth and the supposedly mythical vertebrate.
"Is he supposed to do that?"
Blaze turned and gave him a look that made it seem as though she were scowling at him.
"Actually, he's a she," Seth informed. "What's wrong Blaze?"
Blaze turned her head toward the wall that connected his room to his sister's and squawked. There were no longer whimpers resonating from that bedroom, but Seth could hear his sister's heart speeding up and beginning to pound louder and louder against her chest. He frowned again and exchanged a knowing look with his guest.
"Do you think I should...?"
He shrugged, tiredly scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know. You know how your sister can get; what if she locked her door?"
Seth sighed. "I don't know."
Blinking, everything around her began to shift, and, when everything went still, she found herself suddenly standing alone, no longer in the forest. She stood at the altar in what she looked like a church, though she knew it was not. It looked very much like the Great Hall at Hogwarts, though, there were no tables divided into rows, and there was no single table standing at the end of the room, opposing the giant doors. The entire room was lit by hundreds and hundreds of royal-looking chandeliers that were floating in midair. Other than that, it was empty.
Confused by the sudden change of scenery, she glanced around.
"Hello," she called out, her voice echoing loud throughout the chamber. If it hadn't been for the sunvary, light ivory ball gown she was now wearing, she would've turned around much more quickly.
Gaze shifting around a bit more, her eyes finally stopped on a tall, slender figure standing by the large doors at the other end of the enormous room. She stayed still, but did not remove her wary eyes from the figure as it began approaching her. Her heart began to hammer as the person neared her, only to stop the moment it stood before her. Even her breath got caught up in her throat as she looked up at the stranger that was very familiar to her.
"You must Delilah," said the stranger in a very smooth voice.
Delilah couldn't find it in herself to answer...
"I'm hungry."
"Then go get something, you know where the kitchen is. I'm going to the bathroom." He paused at the foot of his bed. "If you find my sister out of her room, don't cross her. She's either sleepwalking or in a really bad mood, and both are likely, especially at the time it is."
"Sure thing, man."
She was staring back at herself.
Her mirrored self was wearing a different gown— a red wine colored gown which was much less simple than Delilah's, and her hair was curly, whereas Delilah's flowed in waves past her waist. Other than those tiny little details, they were identical; it was as though Delilah was staring at her self from a past life, or from another universe. She knew that, even though the person standing before her looked so much like her, she wasn't her. But how was it even possible? Delilah knew she never had a twin like her mother had had.
"How is this possible?" she whispered in shock.
'Her other self' did not answer, but looked Delilah from top to bottom. She slowly walked forward and around Delilah in a seductive, deliberate manner, running a finger across Delilah's neck, moving a long lock of hair back and twirling it around her finger.
"Wrong question," she purred into her ear.
But Delilah, despite how uncomfortable she felt, she needed to know. "How is this possible?" she repeated. "How do we look so much alike?"
She was laughed at, but that wasn't all that bothered Delilah. It was the fact that, not only did she look like her, she also sounded just like her.
"Oh, sweetheart, we don't just 'look some much alike'," her other self said, her voice holding a playful scolding edge to it as a sly smirk made its way onto her plump lips coated with red lipstick.
She stopped circling her and stood in front of her, the smirk never leaving her face as the sclera of her eyes turned blood-red, dark veins appearing under them as the blood pumps forcefully through them, and her canine teeth extended into razor-sharp fangs.
Delilah's eyes went wide with terror, mostly confusion flashing through them as she stared at her. Before she could even blink, her other self had blurred in front of her till her face was but centimeters away from hers, her blood-red eyes staring into violet orchidee orbs.
"We are exactly the same."
And she lunged forward, mouth widened as her fangs became longer, about to pierce through her—
Her eyes snapped open, and she was breathing heavily, her body completely shaken up from that horrible memory. She sat up but instantly regretted it as she went into a new coughing fit. Clearing her throat, she blinked a few times before glancing around, as though to remember where she was. Her room, always neat and in order. She sighed and laid back down, though frowned when a familiar voice reached her mind.
"Are you alright, child?"
Delilah looked over to her right and found Blaze sitting quietly on her night table, watching her with worrisome small black orbs. She sighed, running her hand down her face as she nodded. "I'm better. The coughing's died out," she said, pushing herself out of her bed. "I'm gonna get something to drink. Do you want anything? Bread?"
Blaze squawked, flapping her wings and flying toward her perch. "There is no need to bring me anything, Delilah."
Delilah shrugged as she slipped on a pair of sneakers. "If you say so," she replied before standing up and leaving her room.
Closing her door behind her, she tiredly rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes, as she leaned her back against her door for a long moment, trying to even her still heavy breath, before, exhaustively, dragging herself down the stairs and toward the kitchen, where she began to prepare herself a large cup of coffee.
Breath still heavy and ragged, she stared at the heating pot as she waited for the water to boil, though only glanced up when she saw her inhaler being held out to her. She made her way over to the refrigerator, opened it and brought out the double chocolate cake she had baked a few days ago.
"You can't escape."
Delilah gasped, almost dropping the cake stand along with the cake itself.
"We made this place impossible to escape for humans."
Delilah placed the cake on the counter beside the stove, walked over to the sink and placed her hands on its edge as she breathed in deeply. Why was she having these flashbacks now? She barely had any of those the previous year... was it because she had rejuvenated and lost her memory? It couldn't be that, because the entire last year she'd been having glimpses of her past before the attack on Anima Curatoria.
"Clean up this mess and no more slacking off, worthless."
Shutting her eyes, she let out a small breath through her nose, shuddering slightly, before opening them again and making her way back to the cake. She cut herself a small slice, then put the rest of it back in the cooling compartment before turning the stove off as the water was ready.
She then grabbed a mug from the cupboard above the kitchen lavatory and poured the water of the kettle into it, carefully. She threw two tablespoons of ground coffee into her cup and stirred it till the grains dissolved within the hot water. She paused for a moment, glancing over at her slice of cake. Sighing, she grabbed the plate she had placed the cake on and put it in the refrigerator, knowing she wasn't going to eat it in the end, before making her way back toward her mug of coffee and resuming her stirring.
After a few seconds of just stirring and staring at her cup, she took the spoon out, poured in three tablespoons of sugar and stirred it a bit more before throwing the utensil into the sink and bringing the cup up to her chapped lips, taking a long sip of the hot drink. It was hot, very hot as it rivered down her throat, and the fact that she was drinking it black didn't help much as she utterly disliked black coffee, albeit her becoming quite addicted to it over the past month. But, at this moment, the dull burning drink was better than a soft, warm one. It kept her awake. It kept her aware of the reality around her.
"You little brat, why don't you understand? There. Is. No. Escape."
Aware of the cruelness in the world.
She looked up and stared blankly at the closed cupboard in front of her, feeling a pair of eyes settled upon her. She waited for a moment, expecting the gaze to shift away from her, but whoever had their eyes on her just kept on staring at her.
Sighing, she slowly began to turn around. "Seth, would you stop star—" she cut herself off when she found herself staring down into a pair of eyes that were far from being a violet orchidee.
Her brows furrowed as she looked into the pair of unfamiliar sea blue eyes. She shifted her gaze around the owner's face and body; he was shorter than her, probably Seth's height and age, he had pale skin that had a slight tanned tint to it, and long jet black hair. But she had no idea who he was.
"You're not Seth."
The raven-headed boy let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, as a light blush made its way onto his cheeks. "Yeah... no, I'm not."
They stared at each other for a moment, an awkward silence surrounding them.
She sighed, running a hand through her slightly messy hair. "Yeah... this is the part where you tell me who you are."
The blush darkened on his cheeks. "Oh! Right, er... I'm William Eberhardt."