My Benefactor

My Benefactor Chapter Twenty Seven

My Benefactor

Copyright © 2011 crimsonnebula

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty Seven
This chapter is dedicated to HannahFace10. She made me this kick ass book trailer and I practically swooned on Mathias Lauridsen...especially when his smirking! Gah! Trailer is on the side as well ;-) Thanks girl!

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Enjoy! No proofreading done.

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(Reagan's POV)

'Come on, Reagan. Concentrate,' I jeered internally.

I tried imagining the lid popping out as I concentrated further, my head hurting from intense focus.

As the throbbing in my head increased, the desperation of willing the damn thing to open dwindled and finally, I gave up. Nothing happened. What a load of horse dung.

"Darn it!" I growled, glaring at the piece of crap. "Why don't you just open?"

Derek placed his hand on my shoulders. "Calm down, ma cherie," he said soothingly. "Don​'t force it."

I scoffed but didn't bother to reply. To hell with that thing.

"Maybe we should check out the intricate designs around the object," Cooper suggested and I looked up. "There might be something there."

For once, the immature pureblood had contributed something productive. Twirling the cylinder around with meticulous eyes, nothing was out of place. Just some detailed designs and what not, but when my eyes landed on a greek word engraved in the middle, I frowned.

                                                                   

                                                                     "αίμα"

"Dee," I said as I showed it to him. "What does this mean?" I knew he was a walking encylopedia. We had depended on him for things that were unbeknownst to us. Like I said before, he jammed the entire set into his gorgeous head.

He peered, frowning. "It means blood."

Surprise flooded in my face with a mix of awe. "You can read it?" then remembered he was the one who translated the inscription back on Syntagma Square.

Oops.

He smirked. "Did you just underestimated me?"

"I forgot that you can read and speak greek," I lied, clearly denying my blonde moment.

He chuckled and mussed my hair. "If you say so."

I rolled my eyes then traced the word with my fingers and suddenly, a strange feeling warmed all over my body. I was frozen stiff and eyes clouded.

It was like the time in Syntagma Square.

"Reagan? Reagan?" I knew it was Derek, but his voice was faint, like a whisper.

The surroundings rippled then a new scene unfolded. It seemed like I was transported into a place for forging metals into objects. There were urns and plates cluttered about and there, sitting on a limestone table, was her. She wasn't alone though. There stood a man in his early thirties. He was tall and burly and had short curly blonde hair, wearing a tunic like all ancient greeks at that time. He handed Sephrina the object and she accepted it.

It was the cylinder, but brand new, not the one we had in our possession which was decrepit and stained due to aging.

He was pointing something, and I knew what it was. He placed his thumb on it and she nodded like she understood.

"Reagan!"

With a jolt, I was brought back to reality. My breathing came out short as I let discovery sink in. I knew what to do now.

"Baby, are you alright?"

I blinked a couple of times and saw dad kneeling in front of me with a worried look on his face. "You blanked out on us," he said. "What happened?"

"I know how to open the cylinder," I said. "Hand me a knife."

He frowned. "What? Why would you-" but I cut him mid-sentence.

"Just do it!" I snapped and looked up to Cooper who was frowning. "Do you have a knife or anything sharp?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't."

I switched my steely gaze to Ryder and asked. "What about you?"

He narrowed his eyes then bent down to fish something out from his boot. He then stood right up and handed me his throwing knife. "Careful," he warned as he placed it on my outstretched palm. "It's sharp."

Ryder did had serious issues to deal with. He was a freaking Galerian with superpowers and why would he need throwing knives? Sheesh.

I rolled my eyes and proceeded to my task at hand. "Hold in your breath guys," I murmured as I sliced the skin of my thumb, not deep and big. Just enough to draw out blood.

"Ma cherie, what are you doing?" Derek asked in a panic. He tried to grab my hand, but I yanked it away, and he glowered. "Reagan."

Ignoring his warning, I smeared the blood on the symbol, and not long for a second, the the object disintegrated into dust particles, revealing a rolled up parchment.

"Whoa," I said, marvelling what just happened. "Did you see that?"

I glanced at Derek and to my surprise, he was gaping like a fool. I thought he was used to this kind of mumbo jumbo.

Dad cleared his throat and grabbed the rolled up parchment from my hand. He was careful in handling it and when he was done, he frowned as he scanned the contents.

"What does it say?"

Dad handed the parchment to Derek and said. "It's in Greek. You read it."

Derek reached for the parchment and read silently.

We waited as his intelligent eyes stared intently at the parchment, deciphering with great care. After a while, he lowered it to his lap and looked up with a expression that didn't look promising.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

He sighed and answered in a disgruntled voice. "There wasn't much in it, but a few lines. The last line only said that..." he paused as he looked at me warily.

I held in a steady gaze as I asked him, not in the mood for the vanilla version. "What, Derek?"

He sighed and spoke slowly, the words that would set me off an internal tirade. "Only the truth can break the prophecy."

That was it? We went all the trouble looking for the answer and that was it? She really did want the prophecy to happen and yet, she deliberately gave me clues, but for what? Just for a measly line about the truth being the key in breaking this damn prophecy. The pressure she put on my plate was hard enough, and this vague answer to our problem wasn't helping.

I wanted out of this. I never asked to be a direct descedant.

Screw you, Sephrina.

Yeah, screw you to hell.



(Bryson's POV)

I was standing near the railing of our upper veranda to stare at the moon. From the slump of my shoulders, usually held so proud, I was bleeding inside as I missed her.

I missed Reagan.

"Penny for your thoughts, son?"

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. "Hey, dad," I greeted with a sigh.

Still staring at the moon, I felt him next to me and wistfully sighed. "Nice night, huh?"

I shrugged. "They're all the same to me," I replied nonchalantly. Was there a difference in the first place? Or maybe he was just making conversation. "I received a notice from the Tribunal," he said and my ears perked at the news. "They requested for you and I to be there in witnessing Rebacca's hearing."

I sighed. It wasn't long before they caught her. I guess that pureblood wasn't doing a good job in protecting her.

"What about the pureblood?" I asked.

"He will be there as well, since he's also included in the hearing."

In a way, I felt sorry for Rebecca. She loved someone who was our sworn long time enemy, and what's even worst, she was punished for it.

Our hatred for them was bred into our bones - and was part of our flesh as we continue to thrive for survival and greatness.

But, as time changed, people changed too. As the famous adage goes, 'The only constant thing in this world is change.' They learned to move past the pain and hurt, but those were rare occurences, especially to Alerians and Purebloods.

Hatred comes a long way.

"When and what time?" I asked, still staring up at the night sky.

"Tomorrow afternoon at 5."

I nodded. "I'll be there."

Silence filled after that. We stood there, not speaking at all. No words, just complete desolation, as we heed the comforts of the night.

Yet, the loneliness I felt a while ago had rose to great heights as I imagined Reagan's beautiful face, a soft smile gracing her lips and longed for that tender look she gave that was intended for me, and me alone.