Author's Note: Heh, heh, hiiiiiii everybody. So about me being the worst updater ever…FORGIVE ME? And in the last a/n I said I was real excited for this chapter but that changed because I sorta write backwards and so the beginning 3/4 of this chapter didn't fit with what I wanted to end with, so that's gonna be in ch. 7…unless it gets moved to ch. 8
Sorry for everything. Enjoy (?)
Chapter 6: Meetings
The clacking of horses' hooves on cobblestone came to a halt when a carriage pulled up outside the ritzy hotel. An elegantly dressed family came out of the carriage, and the driver followed them into the hotel with their luggage. Mordred watched them with envy as he sulked against the wall.
He lost his parents at a young age. He was in and out of orphanages before living on the streets where he met Aglain, his maker. Aglain saved him from succumbing to illness, and Mordred asked to be turned; thus, he was immortalized in his seventeen year old body. Not long after, he lost Aglain to a hunter, and joined a group of vampire misfits.
Mordred backed off the wall and prowled the streets looking for food. Blood, he felt, wouldn't suffice. He needed something solid to fill his empty stomach. He hoped for a chunk of stale bread at most, but it would be a treat if he could soak the bread in blood. Mordred licked his lips and set off through the crowded sidewalk, spotting a well dressed man coming towards him. His eyes locked on the pocket watch the man was looking at as he walked, and all Mordred could think about was money.
He bumped into the man and helped steady him. When he felt the wallet, the man caught him. Mordred was so hungry and focusing all his attention on pick pocketing that he failed to sense that the man was a vampire.
The vampire clutched Mordred's wrist, dragged him into a nearby tavern, and ordered fish and chips for the both of them before they were even asked. He sat him down at a table and removed his hat to reveal his blond hair. Mordred was dirty, but staring at the man made him feel like the he was bathed in grime with his black hair and greasy face. Even the man's blue eyes seemed to shine compared to his.
Mordred tried to clean himself up by smoothing out his hair and wiping his hands on his trousers. And as he babbled apologies and thank yous when the food came, the older vampire cut him off.
"I'm Arthur, and you are—?" Arthur asked.
Mordred was already stuffing his face. He was torn between speaking and swallowing, and coughed. "It's okay," Arthur said. "Take your time."
After a determined swallow, the younger vampire introduced himself. "I'm Mordred."
Arthur folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Well, Mordred, I don't think it's very smart to steal from your own kind."
"I wasn't thinkin', sir," Mordred mumbled.
"Where you from, kid?"
"The Druids." The Druids were a block of abandoned warehouses in the poor side of the city. "And I'm not a kid." Just because he looked seventeen, didn't mean he was.
"The Druids, huh? That's a ways away, and it's getting late," Arthur said. "I could—"
"I don't need your charity," Mordred said sharply. The scowl on his face quickly fell and he apologized.
Arthur understood. "Pride. I get it." He leaned back in the chair. "I was going to suggest we set you up in the Authority for the night."
Mordred's eyebrows raised high. "They do that?"
"We do our best to take care of our own when they want help. What happened to your maker? Were you abandoned?"
"A hunter killed him. I'm twice orphaned. I've been looking out for myself more than I've had someone look out for me," Mordred explained.
Arthur rubbed his jaw. In the old days, makers versed their progenies in the Authority. But as time passed and legends and values changed, new makers have become negligent. But Mordred seemed to be the first young vampire he'd come across to truly be ignorant of the usefulness of the Authority because he had lost his maker so quickly.
"You know where it is though, right?" Arthur asked and Mordred nodded. "Good. You should drop by sometime."
Mordred considered it, but he would never make it to the Authority because the next day he made the same mistake of trying to pickpocket another vampire, this time a woman. It was Morgause.
Gwen looked between them. "You know each other?"
"He tried to pick pocket me in the 1890s," Arthur said still staring at Mordred.
Mordred blinked, snapping out of the shock. "Oh, here," he handed Gwen the black credit card he taken out of her pocket.
"Mordred!" She scolded.
It was Arthur's turn to look at them confused. "And you know each other how?"
Gwen's face fell. "I think we should talk about this somewhere less public."
They settled in the corner of the fairly empty food court to talk. Mordred had no idea Gwen had been released, or the warehouse rave massacre. He had been away with his friends from the Druids. He liked to go on his own holidays; sometimes he had to get away from the girls.
Mordred never knew a mother's love, so when it was Morgause's turn to treat Mordred to a hot meal and shelter, he took to her immediately. Then in the 1930s, he met Gwen and Morgana. Morgause told him they were family. Morgana seemed angry and Gwen seemed distressed, but Morgause told him not to ask questions. Two weeks later, Morgause sent him to Greece where he was for them, and when the women arrived, Morgana looked triumphant and Gwen looked rejuvenated.
Mordred looked sick after Gwen told him what Morgana did to her. "All this time," is all he could manage to say. The more he thought about it, the more those fuzzy memories of their time together made sense. He had no idea Arthur and Morgana were siblings, for one. Morgana had never mentioned her family, and Gwen said she was compelled to never say Arthur's name. The icing on this memory cake was the first two weeks of constant traveling. Mordred had the vague haunted feeling of being on the run. Over the years, he'd have the feeling of déjà vu when he'd go to places he was sure he'd never been before. And now it was coming together.
Why is Morgana angry? Why does Gwen look so sad? Why are you sending me to Greece? He had never asked those questions. He never asked any questions.
Because Morgause compelled him not to.
Morgause, the woman he saw as a mother, was part of Morgana's twisted game. Mordred had never felt anger towards her, but now that changed.
"I'll understand if you don't want to go behind Morgana and Morgause's backs," Gwen said.
"It's fine. I'll do it," Mordred said firmly.
When Mordred finally arrived at their home, which he realized what it was actually a hideout, it was a mess. Unknown to him, it was a complete disaster just a day before.
"What happened?" he asked Morgause. As she explained, he listened attentively, played dumb, and noted how Morgause was laying blame on Gwen.
He found Morgana in Gwen's room. She was laying on the bed facing away from him, the sheets pulled half off the bed crumpled all around her, a portion of the mattress exposed. Around the room, clothing was strewn about in shreds, shattered knick-knacks and perfume bottles crunch under his feet, the mirror on the vanity was cracked. The perfume harshly saturated the room, so Mordred went to the window and opened it. Even the curtain was ripped.
"Mordred?" Morgana's voice rasped, her eyes barely focusing on him. When they did, she was up in an instant and embraced him.
Much too tightly.
Mordred eased out of her hold as politely as he could. Her hands were immediately on his face and in his hair. "You won't leave me, too, will you?" Morgana was frantic, her fingers digging into him, making sure he was corporeal. He pulled her hands away and gave himself space. Morgana missed his hesitation before he said no.
Arthur and Gwen had spent the rest of the day worrying about Mordred and what would happen if Morgana found out they were using him to spy on her. When the worst of their theories subsided, they thought about how they were all connected; how Arthur had accidently met Mordred, how Gwaine and Lance came to work at the Authority. How if Arthur had mentioned Gwen to them, he could've found her much quicker.
The next morning, Arthur was on the couch reading the paper, and Gwen walked out of her room, fully dressed, to the door grabbing her coat on the rack.
"I'm going out," Gwen said to Arthur.
"Okay," he replied, not bothering to look up until he realized she wasn't moving and was waiting for something. "What is it?"
"You don't want to know where?"
Arthur shrugged. "I'm not your keeper, Guinevere."
Since the bond was broken, Morgana made Gwen tell her where she was going and what she was going to do. Gwen had thought she was doing it willingly, but it was just another one of Morgana's orders. "Well, I'm going to the bookstore to meet Elyan. I'll see you back at HQ." Gwen moved to step out but stopped.
"Something else?" Arthur wondered.
Gwen frowned. "Yes, actually."
Arthur's gave his full attention.
"That," Gwen pointed to her jaw then to him, "had better be gone by the time I see you."
Arthur felt his jaw and chuckled. As he recalled, Gwen could tolerate his facial hair when it was stubble. The memory of her giggling as his stubble tickled her while he nuzzled her echoed in his mind. But what decorated his face now was a bit longer. It was still stiff, but with a tight grip between two nimble fingers, it could be tugged. Too long and dangerous if Gwen got a hold of it.
An unpleasant memory of Gwen tugging his facial hair flashed in his mind this time, and Arthur winced. He held his hands up in surrender. "It'll be gone before you make it down to the lobby."
At the bookstore, Elyan was late so Gwen browsed the horror section searching for vampire novels to update the library with. She was reading the summary of a not particularly thrilling story when Lance's voice came from next to her.
"Curious about to what others think about us?" he asked lightheartedly.
Gwen made a playful snort. "I like collecting vampire books. We have a section of our library dedicated to them," she said and tapped the book. "Even the bad ones."
"We?"
She paused. Oh. "Arthur. Me and Arthur. We have a home in Glastonbury. That's where our library is."
There was something apologetic in Lance's tone and in his eyes. "When we met, I never would have imagined what you were going through."
Gwen barely knew herself.
One early evening while on a "date," the sun was setting, and they were walking hand in hand down the streets of Paris. Lance looked down at Gwen to see her frowning.
"Have I done something wrong?"
Gwen shook her head quickly. "No, no. I was just thinking about something that happened last night."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Lance didn't want to pry, but he thought it polite to ask anyway.
Gwen rubbed her cheek with her free hand. "I had a dream—a nightmare—according to Morgana. She woke me. Slapped me awake, in fact."
"Slapped you?"
"She said it was pretty bad. She came to me quickly, thankfully. I think." Gwen dropped her hand from her cheek.
"She felt you in distress, a perk of having a maker who cares so much." Lance never had the luxury.
What Gwen didn't know—couldn't remember—was that she was shouting Arthur's name in her sleep. She woke up to Morgana on top of her, hand in position to slap her again if needed. Then Morgana made her to forget the dream. What Gwen also didn't know was that it wasn't the first time it's happened.
They stopped walking when from a distance they sensed two vampires ahead of them at a flower cart. They were a beautiful blonde couple. The man pulled out a perfect rose and presented it to the woman. He paid for it and they walked in Gwen and Lance's direction. When they passed, they nodded hello.
Lance missed the brief look of longing on Gwen's face. He said, "That's Tristan and Isolde. They have a blood bond of nearly four hundred years."
"I could feel it," Gwen sighed. It's almost like a brand, a signal that tells others to back off, I'm taken.
"It's beautiful, yet kind of frightening, I think, to be with a person for so long," Lance said.
"Frightening?" Gwen asked. "Are you afraid of commitment?" she teased.
"No. Yes? I don't know." He squeezed her hand. "What about you?"
"Makers release their progenies like parents let their children go off to college. I've been sired to Morgana for more than—" she eyed Lance, "a very long time. It's a different kind of love, but it's still a commitment." Gwen thought about Tristan and Isolde and a different pair of clear blue eyes flashed in her mind. "A blood bond is our equivalent to a human marriage. Stronger, in the sense that it's harder to break..." There was a phantom pain in her arms, causing her to let go of Lance to rub them.
Lance looked at her concerned. "Are you alright?"
"Gwen, are you alright…"
"Gwen…"
She snapped out of the memory to see Lance looking at her with the same concerned face from her memory. "Are you alright?" he asked this time in the present.
"Yeah. Sorry," she apologized, and saw Elyan come through the door. "Elyan's here, finally." When he came up to them, she playfully snickered at him. "Late as usual."
"I'll leave you two, then. See you later," Lance said and left.
Gwen and Elyan took a seat in the bookstore's café. Elyan handed her a wooden box with the Pendragon crest etched into the center. "I meant to give you this earlier, but things got a bit hectic."
Gwen didn't need to open it since she already knowing what it was but she did, anxious to see it again.
Nestled in the red velvet cushion was a dagger. Gwen called it Excalibur's little sister when she made it (with their father's assistance). When she moved into the castle, she kept it hidden until she was older. As a blacksmith's daughter, she knew the dangers of weapons and didn't want to be lectured.
She caressed the golden handle, and brushed her fingers over the dragon engraving on the sheath. She had dropped it in a move and the handle scuffed. She gave it to Elyan to fix.
There in the café was the first time since Gwen's return that they really got to be alone together. Elyan fought back the urge to swing his sister around in joy, and promise her that he would be a better brother, and let her know that he would always be there for her.
Elyan had never been as nervous as he was coming back to Camelot. As he went through the lower town, the only familiar faces were the adult versions of those he's last seen as children. He stopped outside the home he and Gwen lived in with their neighbors. The door opened and one of those familiar faces of childhood appeared.
"Elyan?"
"John?"
"Oh wow," John said. "I bet you're looking for your sister."
Elyan's nerves were getting worse. "Is she…How is she?"
"She's great!" John exclaimed. "She's at the castle."
So Elyan went to the castle and asked around for Gwen. He was surprised how casual the guards were about his request, not bothering to interrogate him as a commoner, and he was pointed in the direction of Lady Morgana's chambers without question. He had no idea that it was because by saying he was Gwen's brother, they trusted him being the brother of Morgana's progeny.
From down the hall he heard two women.
"Oh really, Gwen. Stop walking behind me!"
There was a giggle, and Elyan looked around the corner to see Lady Morgana pull this Gwen to her side and walk with their arms linked. Elyan stepped from around the corner and they stopped.
"Gwen…?" Elyan was hesitant and squinted, taking in her appearance. Only his sister had that complexion and those curls.
Gwen dropped her arm from Morgana and she stepped closer to him. "Elyan?"
The siblings held each other at arm's length then embraced. When they separated, Gwen hit him.
"Ow!" Elyan shouted, but he didn't complain, just gave a pained laugh. After all, he's the one who ran away at thirteen and abandoned his sister. "I deserved that."
Gwen's eyes watered. "I missed you."
They embraced tightly again and Morgana smiled from behind them. Arthur appeared and asked what was going on, immediately put on edge by seeing his love embracing another man.
"That's her brother," Morgana clarified.
The siblings let go of each other, and Gwen wiped the tears from her eyes and introduced them.
Elyan shook the Pendragon siblings' hands in awe. "I can't believe I'm being personally introduced to the royal family," he said. "I can't believe my sister is Lady Morgana's progeny!"
Arthur admired Elyan's firm handshake, but the look Elyan gave him made him nervous. Elyan could sense the connection Arthur had with Gwen. "It's an honor to meet you, Elyan."
Elyan tightened his grip on Arthur's hand. "And you, my lord."
Next to him, Gwen grinned. "Welcome home."
They were in the upper level of the Authority instead of below this time. Stepping off the elevator with Elyan, the first thing Gwen saw was Uther in deep conversation with a woman. She had classic features, her brown hair tied in an elegant bun, and her dark eyes stood out against her porcelain skin. Arthur came out of the conference room and Uther brought him over, resting a hand on each of their shoulders and they shared a laugh together.
When Arthur looked to her, Gwen felt frozen in place until he came over and rested a hand on her back leading her to his father and the woman.
As Uther regard her, Gwen held her breath. He turned away and went into the conference room.
Arthur sighed and introduced them. "Guinevere, this is Mithian, Rodor's daughter."
The two women shook hands. Gwen had heard of her. Mithian was one of the many women of noble birth that Uther would suggest to Arthur, in case he and Gwen didn't work out, even when their relationship was nearly half a century long at that point.
"Guinevere," Mithian said. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name." Mithian looked at Arthur with a gaze that Gwen was hoping she was reading too much into.
Inside the conference room, Gwen was reminded of the old Authority, but instead of Uther's council around the table, it was Arthur's, with the exception of Queen Annis and Gaius.
"Well," Uther said from the head of the table, where Arthur would've been if his father wasn't present. "Begin."
Just like the other times when she told the story of her time with Morgana, Gwen ghosted over the grisly details. She didn't look at anyone while talking and focused solely on the grain of the table. "Morgana's always felt vampires were better than humans. Now…now in this time of being 'free,' she would call it, her feeding's become more aggressive. She's easily triggered. She's using vampires as puppets. She's a danger to humans and vampires."
"And you never tried to stop her in these escapades? You're just as guilty as she is." Uther interjected, glaring at her.
"Father!" Arthur hissed.
Gwen stood up quickly, slapping her hand on the table in anger and defense. "I didn't have a choice! If I'm guilty of anything, it's for not fighting back earlier, for letting too many innocent people die."
Uther's eyes flickered downward and softened. In Gwen's quick movement, Ygraine's ring had fallen out of her shirt and now hung exposed.
Taking advantage of Uther's silence, Annis changed the subject. "And what of this boy you have on the inside?"
Gwen lowered herself back in her seat. "Mordred's been away for a while, unaware of what Morgana's been up to lately. But when he was around, Morgause would keep him out of the loop."
Uther's lip curled into a sneer. "Morgause? That boastful woman Morgana would hang around with?"
"Morgause Fox," Annis said with contempt. "What an insufferable woman. She's manipulative and will poison one's mind in an instant. And she was overly aggressive when it came to woman's rights; hence, Morgana's outburst when you named Arthur as King," Annis continued. She was there, and felt secondhand embarrassment at Morgana's tantrum.
"So Morgause is the one truly at fault," Uther said. He was looking for anything that wouldn't cause Morgana to be severely punished or executed, because despite being the daughter of a king, her crimes could not be forgiven.
So Gwen phrased what she was about to say very carefully. "Morgause is merely an instigator. Morgana pulls the trigger."
"Father," Arthur began before Uther could say anymore. "Morgana is your daughter—my sister—but our judgment cannot be clouded. She must be stopped at all cost. As king of the Authority, I command it."
Surprisingly, Uther didn't fight him. His father had been ruling for longer than civilizations existed, but he handed the position to Arthur for a reason. He was tired, and it was time for his son to make the decisions.
After the meeting, the topic turned to New Year's. Gwaine suggested they have a shindig at Arthur and Gwen's love pad. There were laughs over his choice of words, but there was agreement.
Arthur avoided company parties now, but back then, Gwen loved to entertain. While walking back to the car, Arthur grumbled, "I can't believe we agreed to that."
"It's short notice," Gwen considered. "But I think I can whip something up in time."
A party would serve as a little break, a last hurrah before they take Morgana down. If she didn't strike before then, that is.
Arthur was burning up, his throat felt constricted, and a searing pain ripped through his chest. He felt like he was bit by the Questing Beast again. A cool cloth dabbed at his forehead, and he cracked his eyes open to not see the white ceiling of his bedroom, but the wooden top of his canopy bed in Camelot.
His eyes flickered to the side to see a woman with pale blonde haired and blue eyes smiling down at him. She practically glowed in her cream gown and golden diadem nestled in her hair.
He's seen those eyes before. They were his eyes.
"Mother?" Arthur's voice was hoarse.
Ygraine swept the damp fringe from Arthur's eyes with gentle fingers. "Hello, my son."
Arthur choked back a sob, when his mother's fingers brushed his cheek. Before he could relax, he cried out in pain as the poison attacked his system.
"Fight it, Arthur!" Ygraine commanded. "You can do it!"
There were countless ways to experience death. Arthur wondered what it would be like to die naturally. He briefly saw his mother and father fade from life. He saw himself be crowned king, marry a princess who bared him a son; both had faces he couldn't see. He grew old and grey, and faded away.
Miserable.
"Live for me, my son…" His mother's voice was pulling him back. "Live for Guinevere…"
"Guinevere," Arthur whispered. He felt his heartbeat steady.
Ygraine dabbed his forehead again. "I wish I could meet her, the woman who makes you whole. You need to get through this, Arthur. You need to go to her. She needs you now more than ever."
Behind his mother, Arthur saw three identical figures draped in dark, hooded robes. Only their mouths and hands were visible. They each held a wooden spear-like staff. They were the Disir, the mothers of all vampires. Very few vampires knew of their true origin, but the old ones knew who to thank for their gift.
"We gave our blood…"
"To protect the land…"
"Morgana Pendragon will destroy the balance…"
"You must put a stop to her…"
"But first you must clear the darkness…"
"What darkness?" Arthur asked while gripping his mother's hand.
"The darkness in your heart…" The Disir and Ygraine said in unison. Then the Disir faded away, leaving only Arthur and his mother.
"Arthur," Ygraine said softly. He would never forget how she sounded. "Wake up, son."
x
"The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain. Ha! More like is completely insane," Gwen grumbled as she tracked her prey in the torrential downpour. He was a priest, and she followed him all the way into a church. She slammed heavy wooden door behind her and he whipped around, startled by the echoing boom.
Gwen figured she looked like soaking wet tourist to him, so she played the part. She raised her hands in apology and put on her best embarrassed face. "Sorry. Um, lo siento, Padre. I just had to get out of the rain."
The priest smiled. "It is okay, my child," he said kindly in English. "Let's get you dry."
When he turned around, he was shocked to find Gwen in front of him. Her lips curved up in a mischievous grin revealing her fangs, and she ran her tongue along her teeth.
The priest stepped back and his eyes were widened in fear. "El Diablo!" he cried.
He held up his crucifix with a shaky hand and Gwen laughed. "Oh, that is adorable." She made the sign of the cross and said, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," and pounced on him. She bent down and whispered into his ear. "Don't believe everything you read." She laughed as he struggled under her before ripped into his neck.
Suddenly, Gwen found herself standing behind Catherine of Aragon who was on her knees praying. Catherine was kneeling in a pool of blood that was growing larger by the second. She stood and turned around to face Gwen. Blood poured from the bite on her neck, and her hands were still together with her rosary hanging between them. Blood dripped from the cross and into the pool causing ripples. Catherine's image flickered and she was in front of Gwen in a flash, frightening the vampire and causing her to fall back into the expanding pool of blood.
"C-Catherine," Gwen choked and her tears fell. "I'm so sorry."
Catherine flickered again and tripled. Each Catherine wore a ghostly smile and spoke individually.
"You will be forgiven…"
"When you forgive yourself…"
"If you can forgive yourself…"
The Catherines morphed into three identical figures, the Disir. Gwen panicked as she sank deeper into the blood until she was submerged. She felt like she was drowning. Blood was indeed thicker than water. No matter how hard she tried, Gwen couldn't reach the surface. She felt heavy, she was sinking, and all the fight seeped out of her.
She let go.
I wish…I'm sorry…Arthur…
Gwen's mind went blank. Everything went silent, and an odd sense of peace washed over her. She didn't know—didn't care—if she was still sinking. She accepted her fate.
She didn't know how long she was floating there, but the first thing she felt after what seemed like forever was a grip around her wrist. It pulled her up, and she broke the surface. Gwen's first instinct was to gasp for air even though the feeling of suffocation was gone.
With her senses fully regained, she noticed that she wasn't in blood; she was in the lake at Avalon. She swam to the shore and stumbled onto the sand.
She was dry and dressed in a wine red chiffon gown. The sheer sleeves billowed, training pass her hands and flowing with the skirt. The black crystal beads that started on the bodice and sprinkled down onto the skirt twinkled in the sun. It was the dress she planned on wearing on New Year's Eve. Even her hair was short and styled in finger waves.
Gwen shuddered as a cool breeze tickled her exposed back. The smell of pine wafted in the air and birds chirped. It wasn't winter, but spring. She stared at the peaceful scenery in front of her, almost falling into a meditative state when the chirping and rustling of the trees stopped and was replaced by knocking.
The Disir were standing on top of the water.
"Let him in," their voices came from all around her.
x
Gwen's eyes snapped open, and she thought she heard the knock again. When she heard retreating footsteps, she became more alert. "Arthur!"
Arthur entered, unsure, staying in the doorway until Gwen beckoned him forward. He sat on the edge of the bed and Gwen's head flopped back on the pillow.
"Did I wake you?" Arthur asked quietly.
Gwen muttered no into the pillow. "The Disir…"
"You got a visit from the Disir, too?"
"They're the ones who told me to let you in." Gwen snuggled deeper into the pillow. "What did they tell you?"
"I saw my mother," Arthur said. "Or, I was dreaming about her and they showed up. I'm not entirely sure. Then the Disir said Morgana must be stopped."
Gwen sat up. "You still don't know how we can, do you?"
Arthur sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Morgana's actions are punishable by death."
"You said to your father that you shouldn't let your judgment be clouded, that she must be stopped at all cost." Gwen laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Follow your heart, Arthur."
Arthur hung his head. "And how would you feel if I killed her, if I killed your maker?"
Gwen's hand slid off his shoulder to rest on his hand. "The love I had for Morgana is in the past."
Arthur squeezed her hand before letting go. "See you in the morning."
As Gwen laid back down and wrapped her arms around the pillow, she felt something bumpy underneath it and sat back up in confusion. She pulled out a beaded chain with a crucifix hanging on the end. It was Catherine's rosary, the same one in the dream. Then it disappeared as if it was never there.
"Arthur…" Gwen said with shaky breath. Arthur abruptly stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. Gwen closed her fist, still feeling the phantom rosary in her palm. "I need to tell you something."
A/N: So I'm planning a sequel. I already have little pieces of it written. I like this little world I've created and I'm not ready to let it go lol. (don't worry there's still a few chapters left of this)
And massive THANK YOUs to all of you, new readers and old, for giving this crazy creation a chance. :D