Taint (Formerly Claimed) Dark Midnight 1

Chapter 21

*Really short chapter, I know.  But I didn't want to combine it with the other one.  As always, let me know if something doesn't make sense.  (again, I had several distractions as I was trying to edit).  Don't forget to vote and comment--each one is much appreciated!*

“Did someone say blood?”  The muffled voice came from inside the second coffin just as a pale hand shoved off the lid.   In a flurry of motion, two black eyes peeked from above the rim. 

            “I’m starving,” Hazel murmured, licking her lips.  “Have you already gotten breakfast?”

            Eliot ignored her. 

Sage only grinned at his sister without lifting his head from the floor.

 “You’re always hungry, Haz,” he said.  “But your stomach can wait. Apparently, Eliot is accusing me of something naughty—”

            “What do you mean ‘tainted blood’?”  Eliot demanded in a growl, cutting him off. 

            Sage smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I mean tainted.  Hazel—” He cocked his head back at his sister.  “Would you mind telling Eliot here the definition?”

             “Disgusting,” she recited gleefully.  Her eyes sparkled as she folded her hands neatly against the edge of her coffin and perched her chin on top. “Gross, wrong, defective, unnatural—”

            “Shut up,” Eliot snarled.

            Hazel’s pink lips snapped shut, but not before she and her brother shared a secretive look. 

            He hated when they did that—not only was it creepy, but those secret little looks almost always meant trouble. 

            “What were you doing over there in the first place?”  He snarled, even though the answer was obvious.

            Sage wasn’t the kind who went around introducing himself to the new neighbors just for the hell of it. 

            “Why?”  Sage countered, finally rolling into an upright position.  “I didn’t touch the mortal—at least in theory,” he added on a chuckle.   “So why the rude awakening?  That really hurt, you know?” 

            He grimaced and rubbed at his pale forehead—which was only for show; the wound had fully healed by now. 

 Still, Eliot almost felt the urge to give him another gash along his head.

            Or maybe a hole made with something pointy and sharp and wooden…

            “Hmmm?”  Sage prodded.  “Why do you care anyway—"  He broke, off and those black eyes narrowing ever so slightly.  “Wait,” he said, dropping the casual tone.  “How would you know I was even there, unless…”

            “Ooooh,” Hazel piped from her casket.  She giggled and murmured, “Eliot went hunting.”

            Hunting. 

            He flinched.  “I was not,” he hissed, fixing Hazel with a glare that made her bite her lip. 

            It was the truth—but that didn’t explain why a part of him shivered as if it wasn’t.