“He’s not just after my mother, but my brother as well… He knows the Aurum no longer protects me… Leaving just mymother and Fynn… What if he tries to recruit my brother? Helps him with finding me?”
The energy that radiates off Emrys at the mere thought of the dhampir having a part in Fynn’s attempt to get to me is murderous.
“If I find out that that’s the case, that Faas blatantly lied to my face, I’ll make him pay for it. If he jeopardizes you on purpose, I’ll bring down Hell on him.”
Tarnished Wraith
Fynn
Chapter 13
I listen to Jodelle’s breathing as she sleeps on my chest, while I gaze at the worn ceiling. The wooden beams reveal their age, and the paint is peeling in spots. She lets out a quiet groan, then turns away, her head no longer touching me, and the cold that appears sends a chill down my spine. I keep replaying the scene where I see my mother in Faas’s clutches, her willingness to be in the presence of that half-breed. How I cowered for her sternness, the power she still holds over me as my mother. I shake my head. It’s a universal silent dominion that all mothers possess. One glare, one word, and children abide by their will, including me. She has always tried her best to keep my sister and me safe from all the horrors that persist.
It didn’t sit right with me, though, even if Faas has taught me more about this world than anyone else; that doesn’t mean I trust him. Especially since his sharing of information seems to be more in his own interest than mine, aimed at gaining my acceptance and a mutual understanding. I do seek him out, sensing he needs me, but I’m not sure what it is he wants from me. However, my presence fuels his desire to talk to me, to reveal the known secrets of these creatures I share my space with, vaulted knowledge I never had access to before.
As watery sunrays emit through the slightly parted linen curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, I get out of bed. I make sure not to disturb Jodelle, who’s still fast asleep. The pen glides over the piece of paper, shaping my words, a short note, letting her know I’ll be back later today.
Downstairs, there’s still no sign of Caria. I take a deep breath to contain my irritation and to avoid setting the entire place ablaze. I feel the judging stare from the pretty witch behind the counter, following my every move. With gritted teeth, I storm out of the establishment, startling some of the customers who sit inside. I’m sure some heat radiates off me, but it’s not enough to truly harm them; it’s just a result of my inner turmoil, which I’m losing control of.
The moment I step foot outside, I inhale deeply, fresh air expanding my lungs, and begin to walk. First, aimlessly through the small maze of alleys, unsure where to go. Everywhere I appear, creatures flee, and a pang of loneliness seeps into my warped heart full of rot that’s gone astray. I spin on my heel, knowing there’s only one person, or rather monster, left that entertains my presence and speaks with me.
“We need to talk,” I demand as I enter Faas’s living quarters.
He looks at me with amusement, like I am his favorite chaotic plaything. That mischievous twinkle is always present in his unnatural emerald eyes when he sees me, as if I’m a shiny toy he’s dying to get his hands on.
“We do indeed.”
I arch an eyebrow at that and sit down in one of his comfortable wingback chairs without his asking. I refuse his offer to pour me a drink; I need a clear mind, not a clouded one obscured by alcohol. I lean back into the velvet fabric, the softness relaxing me slightly, and wait for him to follow suit.
When the monstrosity sits across from me, I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off before I can even get a word out.
“The Umbra and his bride are a problem,” he says.
I furrow my brow at his statement. This is new to me. Faas is upset. I notice the sorrow that bleeds through the mask he usually wears.
“So are you and my mother,” I counter, challenging him as I’m still undecided on how I feel about it all.
Faas is not impressed, and I slump my shoulders. I hate to admit it, but he’s right; my biggest concern is the damn Umbra. He’s the one who keeps me from fulfilling my harrowing destiny.
“Fine,” I say reluctantly, crossing my arms as I glare at him, irritated. “I thought you had no problems with him. If I remember correctly, you didn'tquarrelwith him, nor did you plan to.”
“Well, it seems he allowed a quiet rift to develop between us, and I don’t welcome it,” he huffs.
A flicker of curiosity lights within me, and I ask him what caused this sudden shift in thought.
“He and your sister invaded my space yesterday, demanding to know why I was involved with your mother. I do not appreciate unannounced visits, Fynn.”
I glance at the dhampir, unable to blame my sister for wanting to know what’s going on, but I don’t let it show. I ignore the hidden threat toward me. Instead, I shrug.
“What did you expect exactly? A warm welcome into the family? Us calling you dad?” I bite.
“Spare me your kind words, Fynn. When did you start being able to form a proper sentence at the mention of your sister? Aren’t you supposed to be filled with murderous thoughts?”
I clench my fists. My thoughts keep twisting into new shapes. Ever since I got evicted from that damn magical forest, Harlot has been on my mind constantly, or more specifically, her torn-up corpse. My bruised fist, which now sports a deep purple hue, and the cuts I suffered are a constant reminder of my failure.
“Don’t worry, Faas, they are there,” I murmur.
He lets out a soft hum, as if he is thinking.
