𝐈𝐥𝐥-𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ✔️

4

"Take this more seriously, Adonis, your people are relying on you," he says. "These angels have cursed them to an eternity of captivity. They are looking to you for help."

"I am taking it seriously," I say. I want to prove that I am worthy to become King one day. 

"Good," my father says. He stares at me for a few moments. He turns, I think he is going to walk up the steps, but he unexpectedly turns around and stabs his sword through my abdomen. I clench my teeth as the blood stains my shirt. 

He pulls his sword out, it's now stained in my blood, I hold the open wound while it heals. My father demands, "Next time you are down here, you better have more information than that. Or else we will send Azriel instead." 

𓆩♡𓆪

I walk down the hallway. I'd say it's 4 am. My white button-up shirt is stained in blood although the wound has healed. I try and walk quickly to my room, I know the teacher who walks the halls at night is close behind me, but a door in front of me swings open. 

The witch steps out. Her eyes widen as she sees me and the blood on my shirt but my face doesn't change. She whispers, "Adonis? Why is there blood on your shirt?"

We both look behind me as we hear the teacher getting closer. She looks like she is debating something in her head. But then she grabs my wrist, her hand unable to wrap around it as she whispers, "Get in."

I enter her room and she shuts the door. We can hear the teacher walking outside the door.

Her room is clean. Her sheets are white and the air smells like vanilla and lavender. I look at my reflection in the full-body mirror at my bloodied shirt, and I see her crossing her arms behind me. 

"Why are you covered in blood?" she asks me. Slowly I turn around to look at her.

"Got into a fight with a wolf," I lie. 

Her eyes suddenly shift. She asks, "Did you kill them?"

Not 'why,' not 'where,' not 'who.' But 'did you kill them.' She sees me the same way the rest of them do now. That's for the best. She realized now what I was capable of. 

"No, Valeria, I didn't," I say. I don't know if she believes me or not. 

I take a step toward her. I ask, "Why are you up at this hour, anyway?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Couldn't sleep, I guess."

"And why not?"

She sighs. I tilt my head. She says, "I have a headache. I was going to sneak and get a pill."

I nearly rolled my eyes. Witches can't heal themselves. It's pathetic. I put my hand against the side of her head, her hair is soft, her skin warm. She asks me, but surprisingly doesn't push my hand away, "What are you doing?"

Vampires can take pain away. So can demons. Demons can do nearly everything each species can do, that's what makes us so much stronger. I absorb the pain, taking it away, I can see the relief in her eyes when it's gone. 

When I drop my hand, I can still feel the softness of her hair. She says quietly, "Thank you."

"Don't," I say. "It's just so we're even. Don't tell anybody I helped you. And I won't tell anybody you helped me."

"You think I want people to know I helped you, Adonis?" she says while raising her eyebrows. "I hear the things everybody says about you."

I just stare at her. Maybe she isn't an angel. She looks up at me, waiting for my response, while I try and see if she's the species I am here to wipe out. 

"Goodnight, Valeria," is all I say. I know the teacher is gone now. I step past her and exit her room.

But I don't go to my room. My feet come to a stop outside Finn's room. I stand for a moment. I know he's in there, I can hear him breathing. Quietly, I open the door. My shadow falls over his sleeping body as I step in and close the door. 

I take slow steps toward him. His breathing is soft. I stop walking once I'm standing over him, looking down at him. His slight snoring stops as his eyes slowly open. Demons can do certain spells. Dark ones. The spell I did made my face look black and distorted, hiding my identity in case anybody saw it.

Once he was out of his half-awake state, his eyes widened as he started, "Please-"

I put my hand over his mouth and place my hand over his heart. He tries to scream through my hand as I absorb his soul, but he can't be heard. 

And I feel it. As I take his soul, killing him, I feel the same feeling I had felt years ago. The purity of his heart, the innocence, it gets corrupted as it reaches my veins. I shut my eyes. I feel high. I only open my eyes once it's over, and his soul was now mine, leaving nothing but a dead body in the bed. 

I have killed my first angel. 

Word Count: 1547