Hello there :) I've got something to cheer up your monday/any other day blues. A new chapter! As always remember to Review as it encourages me to continue with the story. I hope you enjoy :D
6. The Poisoned Stag
Emma breathed shallowly on Julien's lap. He had caught her when Peter and another werewolf had thrown her in his cell. Her blonde hair was stained with blood. He wished he had his stele with him or anything for that matter. Something to heal her. To make her better.
Julien looked around his cell. It was a storage cupboard he guessed with cold brick walls and a big metal door locked from the outside. For a moment Julien thought he saw something shimmer in the corner of the room like a veil. A blink later and it was gone.
Emma mumbled something and Jules started to rub her head and hair. He traced his thumb over her sharp cheeks. She was beautiful he had realised a long time ago. He couldn't pinpoint when he had noticed but it seemed more evident when she was vulnerable like this. Her face lacked the sharp lines that he had grown used to. He kissed her on the forehead lightly. She tasted of wolfs blood and sweat.
"I'm going to get us out of this Em." He whispered. "I promise."
"I wouldn't count on that." A sing song voice said.
Julien span and instinctively reached for a blade that was no longer there. "Who said that?" He demanded. Like a curtain being raised, the shimmering in the room disappeared to reveal a man in chains up to his neck.
He was pale and slender with a mop of unruly dark hair that covered his forehead. He was handsome in a rough way with faint scars covering his face. As the shimmering disappeared more of him became visible. A pair of long tusks curled around his face starting from his jawline. A black scorpion's tail started to rise up like a cobra coming out of a basket.
"Warlock." Julien murmured. The warlock in chains smiled, baring his glossy white teeth. His tusks were slightly yellow and spotted with red paint.
"Well I'm certainly not a vampire." The Warlock struggled in his chains and winced. Julien wondered why he didn't use magic to get himself out. "I need a hair clip." He motioned towards Emma with his tail. "Take one from her head."
Julien tensed. "First I want your name." He looked down at Emma. She was covered in blood, usually it wasn't her own Julien noted.
The Warlock wrestled with the chains again. "Darius Mirth." He finally said. "Now pass me that hairclip Nephilim. I need to undo these chains."
Jules rolled his eyes and gently took the silver hairclip from Emma's forehead. Her blonde hair tumbled down over her eyes which Julien lifted back up. He wiped the blood off the clip before throwing it to Darius. Warlocks could do blood magic he knew, just giving them a drop was enough for a hold over you. In books he had read, those possessed were like darklings. They would feel pulled to the warlock like an invisible rope between them. Darius's scorpion tail darted out and picked up the clip. It's pincers were bright yellow on the ends like a warning light.
Jules leaned down to Emma while Darius was murmuring curses as he dealt with his chains. Emma's eyes flickered open. Her brown eyes were shining as if there were tiny stars in the centre.
"Jules…", she murmured, "You followed me... Not… a good idea." She gasped. He kissed her forehead again and tasted blood on his lips but didn't care. All he cared about was Emma right now.
"Following you is always a good idea." He whispered. "Because I always have to bail you out."
She smiled sleepily at him and put her hand on his cheek. "For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams"
Emma dropped her hand and fell unconscious again. She was reciting Anabelle Lee Jules realised. A poem that Arthur had made them read and had become a personal favourite of his. It was about a woman who died but lived on with her love. He didn't know she had remembered it.
"Well that's awful cute. A bit romantic comedy but I could get into it." Darius said from behind them. Jules turned around to see he was in jeans and a ripped suit jacket over a stained white shirt. He was rubbing his tusks as one would rub a beard.
"We're not dating. We're Parabatai." Jules said firmly. Darius shrugged and his scorpion tail nipped playfully at his cheek. A lock of black hair fell over his dark grey eyes.
"Forbidden love. I love it!" He exclaimed suddenly. He paced around the cell stretching a pair of long thin legs. "I haven't had something as juicy as this since Anthony and Cleopatra. Two households both alike in dignity-"
"Is that Romeo and Juliet?" Julien interrupted wide eyed. Darius beamed.
"Yes my dear boy. Shakespeare." Said Darius. "That man knew how to write a tragic love story. Hamlet, Macbeth, Juliet and her Romeo. Their loves were magical without the actual magic." He patted his tail with his hand and sat down cross-legged next to Julien. He smelt that familiar warlock smell of burnt matches.
"She's bleeding." Mumbled Darius. "Peter does like to play with his food. Do you mind? I'd hate to see your love ruined by head injury."
Julien saw there was no sense in arguing with him. He had already made up his mind about the two of them. Even if there was a love it would be impossible…
Stop thinking like that. Jules snapped himself out of it and nodded. Darius put his manicured hands to Emma's temples. A dark green light shone and Emma's cuts and bruises started to vanish. Her split lip healed and the cut across her cheek faded into a light scar. The blood turned to water and slid off her face.
"You're lucky it was only a scratch. Werewolf bites can leave one feeling a little hairy." Darius removed his hands and leant back yawning. "I tell you magic takes more out of you than a workout. Six minute abs? Try six minutes of magic."
"If you can do magic why don't you portal out of here?" Julien asked. He took the hairclip from the floor that Darius dropped and clasped it back into Emma's hair. "You're a warlock. You were born with magic running through your veins."
Darius shrugged a thin shoulder. "Magic is boring. Warlocks are too dependent on the stuff. Tv's broken? Summon a new one. Hungry? Summon pizza from Italy. Boring, boring, boring."
Juliens stomach rumbled loudly in response to Darius's pizza talk. "So you trapped yourself deliberately?"
"Spot on." Said Darius standing up. He rubbed his unruly black hair back. "I'm an escape artiste. Like Houdini but with tusks and a tail. And more hipster." He winked. "I trap myself in situations like this and work out a way to get out. No cell nor cuffs can hold me Romeo."
"Jules."
"Gazuntite."
Julien sighed. He was starting to get the feeling this warlock was two seraph blades short of a set.
"Any chance you can portal us out of here then?" Julien asked. "We don't have the money now but-"
"I don't work on promises boy. The last time I did that France started a revolution and BAM! Another member of French royalty hits the dust." Darius seemed to soften at Julien's expression. "Don't look at me like that. I have a rule. I have to escape magic free."
"Fine." Julien said. He started to rub Emma's hair again. Darius was pacing around the cell. He stopped suddenly and looked at the door.
"Peters coming." He whispered. "Look Julie. Do not anger him. He's a piece of work. Feral. Worse than that immortal platypus I met in Australia." He patted Julien on the shoulder and tapped on one of his red spotted tusks. "Good luck. Cohibe. "
The chains around Darius started to wind around him again. He nodded at Julien before he disappeared entirely. Now Julien knew he was here he could hear his breathing and smell his cologne. The door swung open with a crack. Peter stomped in covered in blood. His face was dripping with it.
He crouched down next to Julien. His breath was foul and made him want to vomit. "I think it's time for a chat. Don't you?"
"Well this is ominous." Silas said. Christina looked up at the crumbling warehouse. It was square with smashed windows and bricks blackened by explosions. Perhaps it was a firework factory she thought. "Maybe Emma just went for a drive down the beach front?"
"You don't know Emma." Christina replied. Earlier she had ran out with numerous silver weapons for taking out the werewolves. Silas had refused them and insisted on his axe but eventually agreed on a small dagger. She had made him call Lila on the number she had given him. Lila had told him where the warehouse was and according to Silas "Only propositioned me twice."
"Well it has been a day. I barely know any of you." Silas said as he pushed the warehouse door open with his axe. "So far all I know is Emma likes fighting, you like imaginary angels and Julien likes Emma."
Christina followed him into the warehouse. She got her witchlight out and it blazed bright, the light illuminating off the rows and rows of crates. Each one was stamped with a different country name. Thailand, India, Morocco. Christina took out her silver sword, grasping it tight.
"Of course Julien likes Emma. They're Parabatai. And we are not having another angel argument." She said. The started padding along the ground through the warehouse.
"Really? You can't see it? Carstairs and Blackthorn?" He asked. They stopped moving and looked at each other. Christina thought back to the year she had been here. At the beginning they were always stealing glances with each other, leaning on each other. Notions she would normally associate with a couple but they were parabatai. It was normal?
Silas was looking forward into the darkness. "I wouldn't know what 'it' is." Christina admitted.
Silas turned back to her. "You've never dated anyone?" His eyes narrowed. "Why? You're beautiful."
His eyes widened and his body seemed to freeze up. Silas started spluttering trying to spit out a sentence. Christina felt her cheeks redden slightly.
"What I mean to say-not that you're not good looking-you seem like the kind of person people would date?" Silas started coughing and for a moment Christina thought she heard a good natured laugh come up from the rafters. She looked up and saw a shadow move.
I must be going insane she thought.
Christina started walking again looking for werewolves. Where were they? She thought.
"I'm arranged to be married." Christina said. She thought of the boy her parents were sending to her. She didn't know his name or what he looked like. In a month she was expected to make her decision on whether to marry him or not. It was a big decision for so little time.
"As in you have to marry someone you don't even like? What if you hated them? What if they were repulsive and you'd have to wake up to-"
"It's not like that!" Christina snapped. Silas looked down at the floor. "My parents pick someone they think I'll like. If I do, I marry them. If I don't, then they choose another. It's a Rosales tradition." She spat. She could feel the burning sensation of tears behind her eyes. She looked away hating the feeling.
"What if you never like the person they choose?" Silas whispered from behind her. Christina turned and leaned on a crate.
"They'll find someone but it will always be who they like first."
Silas moved next to her and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Um… There, there?" His hands were warm and more reassuring than the sound of his voice.
He moved further away from her keeping his distance. "I'm sure they mean the best for you. I'm sure they want you to be happy with someone they trust." Silas spoke soothingly. "You know I'd kill for my parents to arrange marry me. I'm not exactly getting any offers. Girls don't like short boys with a slight napoleon complex that takes a sharp left into angry leprechaun mode."
"So you got the short end of the stick?" Christina smiled. Silas chuckled softly.
"A small joke. Hilarious."
"I could write the jokes in list form if you'd prefer." Christina smiled.
"Your parents love you and they want someone good for you. At least you can choose." Silas said. "You should be thankful you have parents. A lot of us don't."
"Your mother's not dead is she?" Christina asked. Silas's face darkened and he gripped his axe tighter. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"No. You shouldn't have." Silas spoke. "She's alive but I'll never see her again. It's only me now. The law is hard but it is the law."
There was a long silence. A silence that seemed to cut the world apart between her and Silas.
"You're only alone if you choose to be." Christina said softly. Silas stood up and stated pacing. He tried smiling half-heartedly at Christina.
"Well look on the Brightside. If you don't like any of your suitors you can always hop the border and escape to Mexico." He smiled uneasily.
Christina shook her head. "I'm from Mexico idiota"
"What about Canada? I hear Montreal is lovely this time of year. The Autumn leaves and such."
Christina stood up and they both began searching the warehouse again in silence. Her bag was filled with silver weapons. Daggers, swords and fine silver powder put into small pouches. At the end of the warehouse was an office. People were laughing inside. The laughing was cut off by a strangled scream.
"He's turning!" A male werewolf cackled. "Who wants to fight the pup first!"
"I'll do it!" A woman shouted. The room suddenly exploded into laughter and barking. Christina lurched forward but Silas pulled her back. He paled when she looked at him furiously.
"There's nothing we can do for him now." He said reluctantly. "He's gone."
More barking erupted from behind the metal door. She tried to block out the sound of flesh ripping. "So what do you suggest we do?" She whispered furiously.
He looked at the door and then back at her. "We lock them in. We find Carstairs and Blackthorn and we leave."
"They'll hurt more people."
"Not if we're fast enough. We send a fire message to the clave and they can deal with the mutts." He spoke under his breath.
"Fine." Christina said. "But we send a message as soon as we're out. No later."
Silas nodded. "It's a deal."
Christina got out her mother's stele and began to draw locking runes all over the door while Silas was look out. He kept looking up at the rafters and for a moment she thought he might start climbing to find out what was up there.
"Done." Christina announced. "Now we find Emma and Jules."
Peter backhanded Jules hard and he hit the floor.
"What is it?" Peter taunted. "Poor little angel boy can't fight without a blade?" He kicked Jules stomach. He refused to scream in front of this man even though he could feel his ribs breaking one by one. The spot where Darius was hiding shimmered again but Peter paid it no mind.
"Tell me how many members the Los Angeles werewolf pack has?" He spat at Jules.
"Go to hell." He smiled up at Peter. He could feel the blood run down his face like a warm trickling stream.
Peter snarled. "Wrong. Answer." This time he kneed Jules in the ribs and he felt something crack. Julien had never felt a beating as bad as this before. He had fought demons and harpies and creatures that had more teeth than he could count. But this was the worst. The lack of breath made him want to vomit. Every time Peter kicked or punched him he tried to make his resolve stronger.
Temper us in Fire and we go stronger. The more we suffer the more we survive.
Peter sat cross legged next to Julien. Emma was bundled in the corner, her head slack against her chest.
Peter sighed. "Julien. We can talk this out like gentlemen. I just want to know the power of the werewolf pack and Vampire coven. You see a certain friend of mine is planning something big and if I don't give her what she wants she'll slaughter more of my pack."
"The Lady Midnight. Why are you helping her if she's going to slaughter more of your pack?" Jules mumbled. He was not going to lose consciousness he kept repeating to himself.
Peters silver eyes glowed. He could see the small yellow ring around the pupil that showed him for what he truly was. "Let me tell you a secret." Peter whispered. "I don't care if they die. Being a werewolf is a blessing. I will turn more mundanes and they will be loyal to me or they will die. Then I will become leader of the biggest pack this side of the country. Los Angeles will be a playground for wolves."
"Bastard." Jules spit in his face. Peter sighed and rubbed his face. He leaned back on the wall and started to stroke Jules hair with his small scarred hand. "Let me tell you a story Julien-"
"ROT IN HELL!" Julien shouted. Peter pushed his head into the hard concrete floor. Blood started to pool around his face as he struggled. Peter tutted and punched the base of Juliens spine making him spasm uncontrollably. Jules heard a small gasp and the rattling of chains from where Darius was hidden. Is he going to help me? Jules wondered.
"There were once two boys who grew up in Idris. The younger of the children was a good child. He could never hurt a fly and he never wanted to. The older of the two was the opposite. He used to beat the younger boy until he was bloody and then some. His parents would say what a good werewolf he was and how the younger sibling was a disappointment."
Jules heard Darius whispering a chant and his face started to go numb. The blood that was pouring from his face stopped.
"One day the parents decided to take the older boy on a hunting trip with them but the younger boy was left behind as penance. Two days passed. He was left living only on a single peach. The older boy came back alone covered in their parent's blood, dazed and scared. He said a man with hair as white as snow had attacked them butchering the boy's parents. He skinned the parent's pelts and hung them up as a warning. The older boy was never the same after that. He was as strong as he had always been but now lacked the cunning and brains which the younger boy had in spades."
Valentine Jules thought. He and his son were the only people with white hair. Juliens breath started to come back to him as Darius chanted. He was healing him slowly and he could feel his strength returning to him. Now was the time to pretend to be weak. To wait and strike.
"From that day on the younger boy promised to take revenge on the Nephilim. The two boys went to the biggest Werewolf pack in Idris and begged to be taken in by the pack leader. Then the younger boy realised this was what he wanted. Power over others. So one day he bought a poison from a Green skinned warlock and fed it to a stag. The pack leader couldn't resist eating it and became ill. This was when he set his stronger brother on him who killed the old pack leader. Little did anyone know that the younger sibling was the real leader, whispering into his stupid brothers ears."
"So you cheated?" Julien said.
"Cheating? No, of course not. It was the pack leaders choice to eat the poisoned Stag. He could have let his pride be and left the Stag." Peter smiled. The blood started to dry around his thin lips becoming crusty and flaking off.
Peter waved his arm. "For a long time the younger boy remained in power whispering orders into his brother's ears until one day a Nephilim came. His name was Luke Garroway who had been turned. The younger boy could see what was happening. The Nephilim wanted more of what they had taken from him. The Bastard wolf and his brother fought for a day and a half before his brother was murdered. In one ripping of the throat, the younger boy's power vanished. He tried to whisper into the bastard wolfs ear but he refused to listen and called him a savage. The boy fled that night and came to America. He vowed from that day on that he would kill anyone who ever came in his way again."
"Kind of a sucky moral." Darius's said merrily. His veil disappeared. The chains fell off and he straightened his ripped suit jacket. "Dear lord have you not heard about the three acts of storytelling. Beginning, middle, end. Read some Shakespeare you Cretin." His scorpion pincer darted out and stung Peter in the leg. Peter let out a pained howl and Collapsed to the floor.
Darius leaned on the wall and petted his pincers. "Cat eyes my ass. Scorpion tails are for the Practical warlock."
"And the tusks?"
Darius smiled like a cat. "For the stylish."
The metal door burst open. Christina and Silas jumped through. Christina surveyed the room and immediately went to Emma. Silas looked down at the crying Peter.
"bout ten seconds too late boys. Warlock One. Shadowhunters zero." He looked up at Cristina. "Sorry Miss. In the shadows you have quite the masculine figure if I do say so myself."
Christina ignored his comment and was checking Emma's pulse. Jules saw her eyes flicker open briefly.
He stood up now filled with a rage that made him forget his pain. He looked down at Peter; his tears had cleaned the blood from his shrivelled face. Jules turned to Silas and put his hand out.
"Give me that axe." Jules said. Silas took the axe from his belt and passed it uneasily to Jules. "Thank you."
"Don't do something you'll regret." Silas said solemnly. "But by the look of you, I wouldn't blame you if you did." The Woodcutters axe was heavy and cumbersome, made mostly out of metal. A willow tree was etched into the hilt Jules noted.
Peter looked up at Jules. His tears were free flowing. Jules wondered if Darius's tail had poison in it and if Peter was already dying. He hoped not. He deserved worse after what he's done.
"Mercy. Please." He cried. "You will pay for what you've done."
Julien lifted the axe up ready to cave Peters head in. He was feral. It was the law. In one swing he would never hurt anyone ever again.
Jules was about to swing the axe ending Peter's life.
And then Emma screamed.