“I’ll see what I can do, Mother. I will check out that fair you mentioned; find them.”
Mother smiles at me as she thanks me, her cheeks still wet with tears, her frustration with the whole situation palpable. If Mother knew her daughter had bonded on a deeper level with an Umbra—a creature darker than the night—her heart would give out. How would that affect the magic? I want to cleave Fynn’s connection with his damn soulmate. I want to see his face twist in agony as it happens, hear his screams as he reaches for Jodelle while she’s no longer in reach, dead.
As I leave the room, a smile creeps on my face, and I feel Emrys’s approving hum through my body. He might not be the good guy, but I never said I was a good girl, either.
Emrys joins me, and we walk toward a group surrounding the fair’s attractions. He’s become even more protective and possessive since it dawned on us that the magic is weakening, most likely because my brother is ahead of me, having already bonded with the mate the curse has chosen. Having him by my side guarantees no one will dare to come near me, despite the hungry eyes, whiffs, and instant terror as they recognize it, the other thing coating my scent besides the Aurum—anUmbra.
His species is a rare sighting in this world, let alone spotting one out in the open. An Umbra that walks among them, not just some fable or fairytale, but an actual one, alive, breathing, ready to rip out hearts with his bare hands if you look at me, or him, in a way that does not please him. Emrys is no longer the Umbra that resides in his fortress, and the vampires and witches whisper about him. For some, he is a long-forgotten species, while others keep his reign alive by claiming to have spotted him.
Us being here confirms his tale is not one of made-up stories. As Emrys traverses their streets openly, his mere presence commands respect, whether the darklings want to give him that or not.
Even with all the rotting corpses scattered throughout the city, decay does not suffocate the air around us. The witches make sure of that, working their blood magic. With Fynn securing his soulmate, the demographics of those drawn to the city shift: more young men and fewer women, with or without children. The curse lures them to Valorya, and the curse is still working to bring me my soulmate as well. Unbeknownst to them, it leads them straight into an awaiting death trap, a snare in its most terrifying form. I notice how the guilt is eating Mother from the inside out, the blood of all these people on her hands, our hands. Strangely, I feel an absence of guilt; none of this finds its origin in me because of my acts. Empathy does not find its way to my heart as I glance at the corpses we pass by. Yet my heart is whole as I look at the man beside me, as if I am composed of both good and evil, the good only present selfishly when it concerns the love I have for this man.
The dynamics of the magic must have shifted when Fynn fulfilled his part of the curse. It appears the magic is more potent in the city now that I am closer to my family; it is as if the curse finds its energy from all three of us, despite what Mother has claimed before. My emotions are more intense as well; the idea of finding Fynn and Jodelle excites me, but not for the right reasons. I want to break them, break their bodies, slowly, bone by bone. I want to set a fire and burn their faces off, melting the skin till it’s nothing more than a puddle of scorched flesh. I want to stab their arteries and cut out their organs, hold their beating hearts before I crush them. I want them to watch each other as I take turns hurting them, while I slaughter them simultaneously.I imagine forcing them to eat each other and dying with their lovers' livers in their stomachs. A menacing grin spreads across my face.
I know Emrys can hear and see the gruesome, cruel images in my head. I also know that, although I sometimes fear the darkness that resides inside me, he has no fear of me or my mind; he embraces me whole. For that, I am grateful, as it is his acceptance of my thorns that allows me to work on accepting them, too. It slowly erases the question that haunts me: am I a victim being played, or a monster doing the playing? He welcomes the monster inside me that revels in all of it: the taunting, the plotting, the impulse to raise carnage. A kinship intertwined with shadows and storms, a tempest so dark it will bring tremors to those around us. He is my salvation, and I am his redemption.
Emrys squeezes my hand, pulling me close to him as we near the city walls. The fair is set up a few meters away, outside the city. The imagery resolves as we near the fair, with some attractions still under construction by the humans, eyed curiously by both vampires and witches. As we make our way through the group of creatures, they part for us, clearing the way. None of them is brave or lunatic enough to provoke Emrys’s wrath.
I see Jodelle’s sun-kissed blonde hair, my brother holding her protectively as he watches the darklings surrounding them. I shout at them, calling their names loudly for everyone to hear.
Some of the humans in the fair also look up, and Jodelle turns around. Fynn ignores me and keeps his face forward, his fingers pressing into Jodelle’s shoulders, keeping her with him.
“I had no idea you were coming as well! If we had known, we would have waited for you,” Jodelle starts immediately, her kindness catching me off guard.
This might be easier than I anticipated.
I compose myself as Emrys splays his large hand on my lower back, comforting me.
“It’s okay,” I hesitate, unsure how to introduce Emrys, “we wanted to go for a stroll first.”
Jodelle looks at Emrys, a flicker of lust in her eyes disappears just as soon as it comes. I scoff. She’s living proof that the curse has decided her fate for her against her will, her conscience fighting itself to the surface, quickly to be subdued. The fact that it chose to appear at the sight of Emrys feeds my lack of empathy for her; pity is nowhere to be found. Suddenly, a violent jealousy courses through me, a white-hot rage boiling inside the pit of my stomach. How dare she even think about him? He’s mine.
Do you think I care about anything, or anyone, but you, my love? You are the thorns I willfully wrap around myself, even if that makes me bleed. Old souls have a strange hunger, and only your soul satiates mine. She’s nothing more than a mere pest, interfering and annoying. I would crush her under my boot if you wanted me to.
I turn to Emrys and kiss him deeply, his mouth opening and welcoming me in as his tongue caresses mine. I hear the gasps around us, the murmurs and whispers, as his shadows cast a protective layer over me. If we are entering the pits of hell, I want him beside me, in the open, claiming me as his, for everyone to see and behold. Instead of introducing him, I’ll show the whole world he belongs to me, and I with him. I want all these creatures to understand that, and I want that bitch especially to understand that.
Mine.
Yours.
Satisfied, I look at Jodelle and see the glint of jealousy on her face. The fading of her smile as her lips curl in disgust,and the quick widening of her eyes as she takes me in, give her away. Our public declaration of love and affection caught Fynn’s interest, and disbelief is written all over his face.
“You are soiling yourself with one of those monsters?!” Fynn says, his contempt evident.
Fynn reaches out to me, his hand spread, ready to grab me, but Emrys interferes before he even touches me. His fingers dig painfully into Fynn’s skin, the blood vessels under his skin bursting, coloring his skin a deep purple, as Emrys holds him in place. His eyes blacken, the fury palpable.
“Touch her, and I’ll break your neck. I don’t care if you are her brother,” he says in a calm, icy tone.
Fynn’s eyes bulge from the pain as I hear his bones crushing. He cries out loud, stammering an apology. He immediately pulls back his sore and broken wrist the moment Emrys lets go.
“Don’t ever touch or speak to her as you have done before. The next time, I will not be so forgiving,” Emrys says, growling.
“How did you do that?” Fynn cries, referring to the fact that Emrys can take hold of him without hurting himself.
“I’m not one ofthosemonsters... I’m not some vampire or Blood Witch, boy. I’m worse, much worse. I could tear you apart right now if I wanted,” he threatens with a grin, showing his pointed canines.
Emrys's ability to hold onto Fynn is a combination of his sheer will to avenge and protect me and the withering magic shielding us.
