Treacherous Passion- Chapter Eight
Albelle watched in fascination as a werewolf leap at a vampire. The fangs were out, cutting and sharp as blade, tearing at the vampire. It didn't stop. Vampires had extremely high life stakes, easily healed and hard to kill. Sometimes, the other supernatural groups had wished that the vampires could stop being such arrogant bastards.
The vampire pushed at the werewolf with his hands on its chest, which was odd since the supposedly way to detach from a werewolf's hold is to grab at the ear, where the skin is the thinnest, and utterly vulnerable. Mountain Ash is a horrible element ever created. She remembered the piercing pain, followed by a string of curses and agony in her eye that a very vain human had sprayed on her. The truth, it worked on werewolves.
Reminiscing at the memory, when all she wanted was a good meal, and in the ever-glorious werewolf form of hers, she had thought of the liberty to indulge in a very raw and bloody meat of a commoner. She was bending her head and using her snout to nudge at the soft tender flesh of the stomach before she finally ripped and devoured it. The taste was exquisite, mouth-watering and very, very soft. She almost sighed at the smell, raw and fresh, and the stomach was still hot with all its intestines lying in front of her.
She licked her lips. And while she was having a meal, a bloody human had the guts to spray the ash, which causes temporary blindness and the after-effects? A terrible migraine and a werewolf dead in place of her. She still remember lying on the wet earth with perspiration beading all over her forehead, her body naked after shifting into human, and looking at her side to see her fellow werewolf beside her, lifeless.
The empty, glassy look was one she never forgot. His name was Rusty. Her second-in-command. The bile was rising in her throat, and she had the urge to vomit. But werewolves never vomit; it's a sign of weakness. Being the head of the werewolves' pack is never good joy.
It's the same as a human being called a chicken after not making to the end of a dare. It's the same for Albelle. She cringed, hating that she had become accustom to that metaphoric crap.
She had front-row seats, the starring of werewolf versus vampire. Hmm, she liked that. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled hard. She bit back a snarl as she noticed who is it. It was Tomas, her assistant regarding the matters of werewolves' rights and politics. Mind you, there's an annual meeting every year where the heads of all werewolves pack come together, discuss who is going to be the new Chancellor, where he or she will be able to control the whole population of them. The South America werewolves' pack isn't good with the North America's though. And all the political and legal issues the European werewolves had appealed should had kept the poor, old Chancellor very busy throughout the year. She grinned.
Albelle had hated the current Chancellor, who was extremely snobbish and had favored the European werewolves.
" Stop grinning and start walking unless you want to end up stuck at the vampire's Council yourself." Tomas voice was cool, but she could sense the heat of fury emanating off him in waves.
" Yeah, definitely. How did you all find me?" Tomas barely glanced at her, focusing all his attention to scenting the sterile, cool air for an emergency exit.
" Can't you shift? The vampires are coming. We no, I, had to shift in order to scent better. Those virile witches had placed some sort of charm and I can't detect anything."
Albelle's brow furrowed, and a frown deepened. Tomas continue to ignore her question.
" What's wrong?" Tomas almost sounded anxious. The panic was rising and she concluded one thing.
" Damn witches. I can't shift now." Tomas was frantic now. Her voice even sounded empty, as if she was watching from a distance and someone else was in her role. She bit hard on her lip, since blood sacrifices didn't specify what type of methods to use. she winced at the pain and forced herself to be quick. She was feeling lethargic. Not a good sign.
She slowly whispered the words. God of blood, I give you the power. That in you, I may be set free from the curse. From this blood, I hand it to you.
Albelle flinched as a familiar itchiness that had started off at her lip. She could feel the wounds closing and the flesh tugging closer to heal. But the ritual isn't finish.
She muttered off a spell she learn, that the ritual would then be close. Even if it is a simple ritual, but if she does not close it, the blood would continually be given and will flow freely out of her body like spring water.
Tomas voice urged.
" Quick! Do something, anything I swear. The vamp is at the next hallway already." Albelle turned to look at him, his face started to grow matted brown fur, and he was in the phase of the change now. The spell had worn off, but it was still magic, and the using of magic had wasted quite a lot of her energy. She sighed and faces the cruel fate.
She willed her mind to the vast land of nothing. Most werewolves were taught at a tender age of ten the art of shifting. The elders or adult male werewolves would guide the young. She remembered chanting and memorizing what her teacher had said.
The woman gruff voice was still vivid in her mind. Low and husky, her words were almost undecipherable even to the werewolves' ears.
" Think of nothing. Till you feel the calm and peacefulness, then I will continue." Albelle had never guessed how the old woman had known when Albelle was calm. It was disconcerting to think though.
" Alright, now imagine an image of a werewolf."
Since she was young and still traumatized by the death of her beloved parents, she had not been raised in the sanctuary of the werewolves. The only time she saw werewolves were when she was watching them in combat training. Rusty, she thought, had gray fur and was large in size. The hind paws had once scared her as she watched from afar how those claws had scratched three long gashing wound at the side of the face of his partner in combat training.
Rusty had then became her teacher in the arts of defend and attacking opponents. Though he was strict and definitely not amiable, sometimes, in those rare occasions, he would smile and give her a wink before looking away.
"Not that leg! Use your hands, they're not broken or something." Rusty had shouted, the sound harsh and disappointed. Albelle had tried her best, she swear, but she just can't follow his instructions no matter how hard she scream at her hands. Perhaps she's getting tired or lethargic.
Perhaps something on Albelle's face shown, and his expression had soften.
" Let's take a break, then." Though he sounded angry and annoyed, she knew that he doesn't mean it. He was a total alien to emotions other than anger and pride.
The memory was beautiful, to say the least. It was something precious, and it was of Rusty.
Loud footsteps were heard and it was shocking to say. Vampires could walk like a feather if they control their movements. It wasn't hard, since a baby vampire could do it too.
She guesses those unnecessary noises were meant to scare her. But she's no weakling. She was strong and she knew it. But those words seemed like some sort of mantra read from a book. There was no emotion. She didn't believe it.
And she knew it.
She muttered, "Damn."
The vampires didn't jump or whatsoever, they just appeared in front of her. And it was less than 10 feet away.
She sucked in a breath, and grasp for the confidence that she doesn't have. She had killed thousands, saw the beauty and depth of persuasion Cleopatra possesses, and see through the days of King Arthur driving the Saxon invaders away, with his mighty sword.
She had lived so long, and so had she wished for death and the eternal rest. There were many times when Albelle had wondered how she would die, often with the scenes of her using a silver stake and pushing it through her chest. The action was easy, but the courage to do it and endure the pain was another matter.
She wanted to die, she admit it, but dying in the hands of vampire, especially dangerous Seth was so out of the question.
She started the change, aware that Tomas was stepping in front of her in his four limbs, guarding her in hope that the vampires would be out of reach before she was ready.
The phase wasn't painful. It was just the popping of joints and the uncomfortable feeling of warm fur rising within the skin molecules, soft and yet it itch her. Her eyes bled from a cold sand color to silver, and her molten gold fur rustled slightly as she moved.
Everyone-vampires, werewolves, witches, and humans- held their breath. Her fur was unique, gold clashing with blue, and with startling bright silver eyes; she held the majestic structure of a queen. But Albelle wasn't focusing on any of them; she was searching for just one vampire. She almost let out a disappointed sigh, and her eyes were suddenly blurry. He wasn't there.
Was he such a coward? That he doesn't even dare to meet her in the midst of her fighting her captors and he re-capturing his captive. Maybe he's not being a coward; maybe Albelle isn't much of a bother to him, not important enough. But he did appear when they first met in the forest. He did care enough to ask the witches to cast spells on her. Witches seldom associate with vampire, and a powerful witch under the command of a vampire is unheard of. It means that the vampire is a master. A master vampire is that he or she is able to create their own signature power with one that acts as the shield of defense, and one that acts as a weapon that will hurt the attacker greatly.
Whatever, Albelle thought. She doesn't care, right? She doesn't even want to see him again. An utter jerk and ass, why would she bother? But her heart is saying the opposite. It's like she knows what's right, knows that she shouldn't be bothered about not seeing him, knows that whatever conclusion she's going to come up with will be ridiculous. But it's like her heart knows what's right, but still wants to care, still wants to search for an answer she doesn't have.
The change is done. She crawled on four legs, and can't keep the growl at the back of her throat. Vampires are not some easily scared humans, but the stench of their fear is so concentrated that she thought she could grab it in her paws and capture it, store it for memory.
Her thoughts were still on Seth while she crosses over the room, scenting the vampires. Her attention was on the task of finding him; while she faces a master vampire with her sharp canines open for all to see. Her eyes were unfocused, trying hard to see him even when scenting failed.
Please, just be there.
She wanted to see him before she escapes, and yes, she have total confidence in her Pack, but not herself. She was too unfocused, too flustered and bothered that she wasn't paying attention to the vampire in front of her.
Ropes seized her, binding her as she felt silver piercing and bruising her skin. The sting of sharp pain started the change, as she felt the soft, creamy skin covering her body again, tickling and almost unbearable as warm fur brushed against her. She doesn't even know how she managed to continue being a werewolf without killing herself.
A young werewolf jumped in front of her, snouts raised and deliberately using the teeth, cutting into the skin at the thighs and drawing blood. The vampire screamed. It was illegal. Vampires' and Werewolves' law state that even in war, opponents should have a code of honor, to acknowledge each other before attacking.
The werewolf managed to get her free, and she noticed that he had light gold fur… and blazing blue eyes. It was Catch, one of her very close friends. His gaze was always hard, but now it had softened and should have looked very attractive, but her attention was on a certain master vampire that had the ever-changing eyes.
He was a distance away, and could have easily stopped them from escaping, but he stood there and lies against the wall, his face wiped of any emotion. She hated him when he's like that, so cold and guarded against the world.
Just like me, Albelle had the urge to whisper to the air.
His gaze shifted to Catch, taking in the open emotion. His eyes turned red, and a hard line was on his mouth. He seemed as though he would like to step in and grabbed her, but she was being lead away by another werewolf. Her eyes were blank, but he could sensed the emotion if he tried hard enough. It was energy draining but not impossible.
Blatant want and desire that equally reflected his were visible through the gold thread that connects them. But he was angry too, like his favorite toy was being snatched away, and almost possessive. She's his, and she should damn well know that. She belonged to him, she was his soul mate, and he had no qualms about not accepting the fact now. She should accept it too, because he's not going to let her go, not now or ever.
Albelle and her Pack ran through the woods, fearing that the vampires had catch up, and she was in her werewolf form again. Though the slight breeze was quite cold, but she didn't mind. It had helped her in clearing her mind, no Seth, no any other complications that come along with it. Which includes: Want, need and desire.
How these emotions had come about, she had no idea. She had more things to worry about, like the claw mark on her arm. Catch had hurt her, since her eyes were glazed over and she looked out of this world when she was being dragged away. Unfocused. Protocol states that anybody attacking or defying the head of the Pack is committing an act of treason, and should either be killed or exiled into the wilds of Africa alone and bind for the rest of the person life.
But this was different; he was trying to save her. Though the thought was good, but the action had hurt like a bitch. The huge difference between werewolves and wolves is not that werewolves is a shape-shifter, rather, it's main focus is that the werewolves' claws produce a type of poison that will seeped into the victim's veins when clawed, which the wolves do not have.
Healing and expelling the tainted blood needs time and rest, which she doesn't have now. The pack still needs to return to their main territorial grounds for safety, and they need to finish at least a few hundred miles before finally reaching.
She can do it, though. She took in a deep breath and let her lungs be filled with the air, and then exhale it. Her back tingled, and it's like there's something she could not see had latched on her skin. When she was in human form, she had briefly touched the area at the small of her back and found nothing.
She feared she have much more problems to come other than the tainted blood.
" It's some sort of tracking spell. You know those that are used in the medieval periods when husbands placed it on their wives to track them. The person who cast it will be able to know where you are right now. Easily."
Albelle let out an air of frustration. She pulled her shirt over but was stopped by Louis who is the Pack professional spell detector and walking encyclopedia.
"Here." He passed her a mirror, pointing it at the small of her back in an angle that allows her to be able to see what was cast on her. There was a shape of a black iris with all the colors and looked startling familiar. Black Iris, she pondered. The shape, the color, the sophistication that had clung on it, was as if a famous painter or artist had drew the art personally.
Louis had explained that it wasn't drawn but a spell had been cast on her. When he had tried to touch it, the spell had burnt him instantly, sending fire sparks at him. But when Albelle touched it, it looked calm and suspiciously contented. Like a cat purring.
He had looked solemn then, almost expecting her anger.
" The spell…not only track but protect you too, but keep you from any harm like wards drawn, as the spell caster and life energy transferred on it must be very strong…because even I had no idea how to counter it. If I were to counter it with a simple counter spell, it will only sucked in the energy, and closes the chains around it, making it stronger. It can also take in the energy if anyone unapproved touched it, burning the person. As you see just now." He took in a breath, and continued,
" To be honest, I had never seen anything…so powerful. I mean, the spell itself could just, take in the power and energy from any person that is unapproved. If I'm not wrong, I suspect the persons approve is the witch or wizard who cast it and the person who requested the work done."
Albelle had an idea who had done it. Seth. The Black Iris was obvious, and beside the 'tattoo', there was an 'S' shaped-like serpent at the background.
Though Albelle looked like she's angry, actually she isn't. She was almost certain that he had done something, if the way-too-easy escape was a clue. Inwardly, she's glad, because it means she still had a chance to meet him again.
And when she meets him the next time, she would kill him. If the theory was right and they are soul mates, she knew it would hurt then when he's dead in her hands. Which is impossible. Seth is very powerful.
Albelle ran a hand lightly across the skin, and a hum of satisfaction shot through her, as if Seth was right here with her. And really, she had no idea why she's missing him. Not at all.
Author's Confessions:
I hoped you readers would like this chapter. Anyway, quote:
Don't ever give up if you still want to try
Don't ever wipe away your tears if you still want to cry
Don't ever settle for an answer if you still want to know
Don't say you don't love him if you can't let go
-Author Unknown
I think it will be awhile before I update again. Exams are coming and starting next week, plus I still had other stories to care about. I hope you understand :)
