Bloodline

07

One thing I have learned through all of this: life goes on.

It sounds less harsh in my head than whenever I say it aloud but it's true life goes on whether you want it to or not — dead or not, times clock doesn't stop ticking for anyone. The first week was the hardest. Having to stay down in New Orleans for a week to have a funeral ceremony for 30+ people isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. Watching what's left of my culture, my family, and my coven go up in flames and burn down to ashes is something that'll stick with me forever. If I empty my mind and push thoughts of loss and anger away, sometimes I can still smell the flames. The scent of the Amaranthus coven is a peculiar mix of the flower we're named after and dried leaves, the combination is like perfume to me, especially after all these years I've spent in a city filled with exhaust and smog.

I left Louisiana immediately after the funeral ceremony and collected a few things from the house like some of my father's textbooks and belongings because apparently knowledge has no price according to members of the order and a few family photos he had lying around his office. I got Rina's ring too. I haven't taken it off since I left a year ago because it's nice and it's the only thing I have left that feels close enough to my siblings. I remember her saying it's supposed to provide good health but I've caught a runny nose like three times since I came back so I don't know what that's about. Nonetheless, the ring is a nice accessory to have with its marquise-cut clear quartz bounded by silver.

The sudden knock at my front door distracts me from my inner thoughts and I don't know whether to be thankful or annoyed that someone is at my apartment this early in the afternoon. The guy beside me on the bed exhaled a low groan as he tousled around in the bed, shoving his head under the pillow at the knocking on the door that only seemed to grow louder by the second. I throw the bed sheets off of me with a huff of air exhaling my nostrils. I scan my bedroom floor for the nearest pair of underwear and put them on.

The knocking continued.

"God dammit, I'm coming!" I yell at whoever is behind the door.

If it's my fucking landlord I'm gonna punch him in the face. He's been on my ass lately about rent these last couple of months. Since that shit happened a year ago and with my father out of the picture and still nowhere to be found, money has been a little tight for me as of late. I'm pretty sure I've used up most of my father's fund he had stashed away for emergencies which I'm pretty sure is money he was given from The Order. I've never had a job before and to be quite honest the thought of working was never really something that interested me so if the landlord is here to get on my ass about that I'm knocking him upside the head.

There's another knock and then another.

I gritted my teeth. "Chill the fuck out!" My voice grew louder as I swung open the front door of my apartment however I was not met with the lanky pale-faced landlord I was used to seeing. The person behind the door isn't lanky or pale and instead very brown — skin the color of cinnamon. He also isn't lanky in the slightest. Broad shoulders and a muscle build that stands a few inches above me are the first things to greet me when I open the door.

The man looks down at his sharp nose at me, eyes equally as cutting. "Who the hell are you?" I didn't give him a chance to speak.

His light eyes lock on my brown ones for a moment, but then his nose scrunched up, his eyes darting towards the inside of my apartment and then back down to me. It's only then I remember I'm only in my underwear in front of this strange man but it didn't seem to bother me the way it clearly bothered him, his eyes and head turning in the opposite direction so he wouldn't have to look at me. There's a familiarity to him somewhere in my mind but I can't place a name to his distinctive features.