AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The glass windows are cracked. Paint peels from the wooden slats. Thick deciduous trees perpetually keep the mini mansion in shadow.
I was naïve to swoon over their beautiful faces. How my heart soared when I thought they fought through hordes of undead to rescue me. But then one touched me and declared me nothing. So I called them monsters and ran away.
But I won’t make the same mistake if I see them again. I’ll kill them.
I find a dark spot beneath a skeletal tree to check my bag. Holding my breath, I open the flap and dart back as a horde of manabeeze swarms out.
When the last one escapes, I close my eyes and bump my head against the tree trunk.I’m so stupid.I should have held the satchel at my back, not my front. Now I’ve got nothing to activate the mana stones. This morning’s expedition was a failure. With a heavy sigh, I head up the creaky porch steps to my house. When I open the door, my older brother growls, “Where the fuck have you been?”
The scowling blue-eyed, silver-haired Guardian is in his leather battle gear, his giant ax strapped between his shoulder blades. Must be about to head out on a mission. His left eye twitches when hysterical squeals filter down the stairs, followed by the rapid thudding of little feet, glass breaking, and distraught, childish crying.
He hands me two stuffed dolls and then pats me on the shoulder. “Your turn, sis.”
“But—”
“I have more important things to do than play with dolls.”
My cheeks heat. “Noted.”
His tone fills with pity. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Willow—”
“It’s fine.” I force a smile. “I’ll entertain the twins.”
Seems like it’s all I’m good for.
“Hazel and Holly love spending time with you.” His brow lifts as he surveys the area behind me. “Where’s your little shadow?”
“Tinger?”
“He’s getting old. Maybe don’t let the girls tie ribbons to his antlers this time.”
“I think Tinger can make his own choices.”
Another flash of pity hits his eyes. He tugs me into the embrace of powerful arms and mumbles how much he loves me. It’s meant to be comforting, but I only feel stiff and cold. When he’s gone, and I’m still staring at the closed door, I wonder how long I’ll keep pretending I’m fine.
Sometimes, rage fills me so much that I want to tear my hair out. Once, I had a purpose. Even if that purpose was to raise an army of undead for the enemy, I was wanted. Needed. People killed to have me in their possession. Now, I’m empty as a desert, and all I’m needed for is babysitting and the occasional supply run.
My gaze sharpens on something I never noticed before on the door. Thousands of tiny vertical scratches are gouged into the wood from top to bottom. They’re clumped into groups of five and cover the entire surface. One of the Six must have made them... perhaps with their talons. Hatred burns the back of my throat like bile. They bargained with the Well for a queen, and they got me. For hundreds of years, they murdered, manipulated, and maneuvered people like chess pieces to ensure everything was in the right time and place for my birth. And then they had me kidnapped by the enemy so I could learn to kill. It was sick, selfish, and twisted. It all amounted to nothing, anyway.
They’re cowards.
I rub my thumb over the grooves and wonder what they counted. Whatever it was, they waited a long time. Years. Maybe even decades. One of them was psychic, like my mother. They probably counted the days until they ruined my life. Or these marks are the amount of innocent souls they consumed.
Scratching outside prompts me to open the door. Tinger sits on the mat, my dagger between his little fangs. I must have dropped it during the escape. Smiling, I let him inside.
“You’re a good friend.” I ruffle his ears, sheath the dagger inside my boot, then show him what happened to our stash. Only four manabeeze are left trapped between shards of broken glass. “We’ll have to source more for a trip to Cornucopia outside a normal supply run.”
He blinks at me. Then at the satchel.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply with a sigh. “What’s the point of selling portal stones? It’s not like we’re saving for anything.”
Little girls squeal upstairs and then giggle. The playroom is probably covered in paint or smelling like a toilet by now. Where I’ve never been able to shift completely into a wolf, they have since they were two. They can be quite disgusting sometimes, but I don’t blame them. It’s natural.
Just not for me.
