Esmeray woke up from her dreamless slumber by the banging at her front door. For five minutes she just laid there wishing that whoever is at the door will take the cue and leave but when the banging got aggressive she had no other option left to just open her eyes with a sigh. With a groan, she gazed out of the window only to find darkness out there.
Dark Gods! People have no sense of timing these days. The last time she checked it was impolite to bang at someone's door as if you want to break it at these late hours.
Yawning loudly she stretched her arms before throwing the quilt off her body and getting out of bed.
Dressed in an oversized men's shirt and her panties, yawning again Esmeray barefooted started heading towards her front door, passing the Lost Souls in her way who were busy cleaning her old mansion.
Lost Souls were the people who were brutally killed or they died holding grudges or desires strong enough to chain them to the living world. They were bound to the living world by their shackles of desires or vengeance. It was a pretty fucked up fate Esmeray couldn't even wish on her worse enemy.
According to her, at least a person should find peace after death after taking all the shit fate threw at him when he was alive...
Ending up as a Lost Soul was a scary fate. They were an indestructible breed with hatred in their souls. They don't fear anything because they were already dead.
They can't be harmed because it was impossible to find a Lost Soul's weakness but for some weird reason, Esmeray could toy with these Lost Souls. She could know their deepest desires and for some fucked up reason these Lost Souls were attracted to her as if they were moths and Esmeray was a flame. And they couldn't help but just be drawn to her.
Esmeray was a tamer of this new breed that had risen from the ashes of dead beings. A breed that should be feared by even King and Queens. . .
Esmeray had an army of Lost Souls at her beck and call but only a few were allowed inside her home. Even if Esmeray was dominant and tamer of these Lost Souls that won’t stop the Lost Souls from continuously challenging Esmeray.
By occupation, Esmeray was an assassin with the deadliest army of the Lost Souls. But she only took a job when she needed fresh air and longed for interaction with beings that were not Lost Souls. But that happened only one time in a couple of months when she went through her regular mid-life crisis.
With a sigh, Esmeray opened the huge doors of her mansion that were barely hanging from their hinges only to come face to face with a girl who was once her sister.
The hair on the back of Esmeray’s neck raised as she sneered, not even bothering with any pleasantries. ”What do you need?”
Maeve smiled as if Esmeray's reaction pleased her. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Before Esmeray could close the doors at her face Meave came inside like she owned the place. “For an assassin who murdered the man who took you under his wing, gave you a home, fed you, loved you like his own daughter, karma is treating you like a princess.”
Esmeray’s fists clenched at her jab.
Maeve twirled around as she took in her surroundings. Her little sister was living in a mansion that seemed more like a haunted house than a mansion that could be considered home. 'But it was still a better place than Esmeray deserved.' Maeve thought bitterly. The only place the girl should be was a dungeon or six feet under the ground.
“Why are you here, Maeve?” Esmeray asked hoarsely, she hated how weak and tired she sounded.
“Why do you think, little sister?” Facing her Maeve arched a questioning brow while calling Esmeray 'sister' as if it was a curse. When Esmeray didn't give her any response she continued. ”Hint, I’m not here to throw you in front of the wolves as you did to my father.”
