“So, what do you think about? How do you do it?” she asks with a grin.
“Really, Caria? That is what you’re interested in?” I laugh at it, appreciating her for keeping it light despite the subject's heaviness.
“I like morbid things, remember? Now tell me the interesting parts!” she counters, nudging my shoulder.
I like this. She and I share stories, and she’s easy to talk to; everything with her comes easily. The panic has long faded, and instead, a satisfied hum courses through my body.
“Fine… I fantasize about… draining her life, having powers like yours, using them to suffocate her, or going old-fashioned and stabbing Harlot with a knife.”
“I mean, it’s definitely effective, a good old solid knife, and these powers… You don’t want these; they are no joke, you know,” she says, smiling at me.
“I don’t know what to do, Caria. I can barely contain myself around her. It’s getting worse. All I want to do is strangle her, break her thin little neck. Like the stunt she pulled this morning, edging Jodelle to go after you. Fuck, it makes me want to seek her out and show her she cannot mess with the people I care about.”
I sigh loudly.
She lifts an eyebrow at that.
“Was that Harlot’s doing?” she asks.
“I mean… yeah, she said to Jodelle that you and I had something together and then asked if I had already told you about my new fling. She made sure to push that insecurity in Jodelle. I hate her, fuck, I hate my sister so much.” I look surly as I tell her.
Caria bursts out in laughter, surprising me.
“That’s brilliant, though, Fynn. You have to admit that. For argument's sake, since you’re twins, what if she’s having these same fantasies? Sending Jodelle after me could have put you in danger and caused you to become a casualty. I’m sure she knows I have difficulty maintaining my powers. And she would have her result without doing any dirty work.”
I stare at her in disbelief, her words sinking in and cementing themselves in my brain. It did cross my mind that Harlot is haunted by the same gruesome notions as I, but not to the extent that she would honestly act on them—the nerves on that girl.
“That fucking bitch,” I bark.
“It’s just a suggestion, Fynn; I don’t know if that was her intention. You two do not seem to have the best brother-sister bond in the world, so maybe she just got joy out of tormenting Jodelle to get to you. Pestering you a bit, but it got out of control. Well… Jodelle got out of control… she’s insane.”
She waves it off, but I can’t let go of what she said, my sister sharing the same tormenting thoughts. I know it’s true, and every fiber in my body has been warning me, that constant feeling of distrust around her, those perverted looks she gives me. I need to understand what’s wrong with Harlot and what she did that scared off even a Death Witch.
“Tell me, Caria, what did she do? You know it. You can smell it on her. You said her scent had changed. I need to know so I can defend myself. I can tell something is off about her; her eyes are different, no longer completely hers. Please, Caria, let me in.”
I take her hand back, wrapping my fingers around hers, the skin soft against mine.
“Damnit, Fynn,” she looks around anxiously. “Look,” her tone is barely audible, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but shesoul bonded with a creature of the night, but not like the ones you find here.”
Caria gazes around us, but the streets are empty except for the dead, decomposing bodies and the birds eating them.
“An Umbra inhabits that fortress you were trying to find. It’s the one kind of being that’s deadly to all of us supernatural beings. They feed on whoever crosses their path; there are few tales to tell because those who cross their path and evoke them don’t live to tell. Umbra’s are solitary creatures. We only know they are near us if they choose not to mask their scent; otherwise, they could be standing right next to you, and you would have no clue, as if they are a night creature like the rest of us. They are dangerous, Fynn, and your sister went ahead and BONDED with it. Fucking SOUL BONDED. Do you even know what that means? They merged their damn souls! Your sister is on a level of madness I never want to come across. She is insane… a human and an Umbra melting their souls together? Unheard of. The fact that she survived is a miracle. Humans shouldn’t be able to live after such an ordeal, yet your sister did. Perhaps the Aurum protected her.”
I hear the fear in her low voice as she sputters, and as I watch, a shadow passes, and I swear I see it ripple as if it were water, moving as if someone stood in it. Caria sees it, too, and freezes.
“No, no, no, shit. He’s here. He has heard me, the Umbra. He’s a shadow walker and uses them to travel. He controls the shadows, Fynn, all of them, perhaps even mine. Not even my coven dares to taunt him. He’s the most lethal creature of us all.”
A light hysteria takes hold of Caria, and a panic attack rises within her; without thinking, I pull her into my arms, enveloping her as I tell her to breathe in and breathe out. Her warmth seeps into mine, and a heated sensation expands on my flesh. Shestarts to sob, my heart breaking at the sound of it. I stroke her soft hair, trying to calm her.
“Breathe, Caria, inhale… exhale… It’s going to be fine. You will be fine. He will not hurt you. It was probably a mirage, a fabrication by our brain because of the fear,” I whisper in her ear.
“Promise me you’ll do whatever you can to keep me safe, Fynn, even if it means keeping peace with your sister, please. I do not want to experience the Umbra’s wrath because you or… Jodelle provoked your sister somehow. I do not want to die at the hands of that Umbra. Please, Fynn, promise me.”
“I promise. I swear, I promise.”
“Oh, Fynn, I wish we had gotten more time together; perhaps our fates were not as destined as I believed they were. Us meeting a mere thread among many… You should return to her… Jodelle,” she pleads, her voice not hiding the sadness.
With those words, she removes herself from my embrace, turns, and walks away from me, back to the inn. I stand there, like an idiot, staring after her, her red hair a flame in the night, myself a moth drawn to her, my heart the beating wings carrying me. But I don’t start the pursuit; I stay clear of the flame, for now. Instead, I sit back on the bench alone, and loneliness takes hold of me with her no longer there. I look up at the darkened sky, filled with luminous stars that brighten the forlorn night.
