Eight - Dannie

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Sunshine filters through the windows, bright and cheery, with birds singing the arrival of the day, and I can only groan in displeasure. Even laying on a bed that felt like fluffy clouds, I could not stop running over everything and felt like I didn’t get a wink of sleep. Hauling my bag into the washroom, I unpack a change of clothes mindlessly before crawling into the shower, replaying my conversation with Matt.

When I had seen his incoming call, I thought I would be unburdening all this crazy shit to him and getting some relief. Instead, he started chewing me out for missing his previous calls and texts, like I wasn’t a functioning adult. I tried bringing up demons; luckily, Matt is accustomed to the random crap I bring up, and he merely laughed that “only religious nut balls believe in shit like that”. I would have probably said something similar before, but it had me clamming up, in fear of my best friend thinking I am crazy. Who knows, maybe I am some lunatic, spinning some whacked out story.

Instead of sleeping soundly, I spent the night contemplating what could be real and what was myth. My brain was a chaotic pinball game bouncing between ideas and folklore, with no real answers. In Aunt Helen’s wisdom to shelter and protect me, I was left ignorant, vulnerable, and questioning my sanity. A sliver of resentment towards my beloved aunt settled in my gut, realizing the incredulous situation she left for me.

My current exhaustion is not hindering my brain from continuing to pick over every possibility as I scrub my hair, and it is draining. Thanks to Michael, I am not getting ready to go home, instead wondering what deranged things I am going to be forced to encounter. I would be the first to admit my life is boring, but with my current possibilities, boring feels like the safer option. I wanted adventure in my life like hang gliding, travelling, or scuba diving, not some sci-fi level reality.

Running through the rest of my shower routine, I cling to the optimistic thought that I will meet a witch and then just go home, back to normal. Never in a million years would I have imagined a witch being my ticket to safe and boring or that I would ever want that. Pulling on dark jeans, a white tank top, and a red flannel button-up, I worry that this nemelatro hating witch might not help me. That pessimistic thought has me stressing about what would happen if she turned me away. I will have to be on my best behaviour and not be a blunt asshole. Usually, I have no issues being pleasant enough, but I worry this anxiety inducing day might get the best of me.

While drying my hair, my brain persists to be pessimistic and wondering what if. My reflection with dark bags marring my fair, freckled face, feel like a clue. It would leave me bone tired or maybe even dead, like my aunt or mom. With that depressing thought, I try styling my erratic waves, and my frustration just elevates. “Fuck that,” I mumble staring into my green eyes, digging for resolve. Throwing my hair into a messy knot on top of my head, I swear, no matter what happens I am going to make it out on the other side of this.

My boots are out of commission thanks to Michael, so I grab my worn black sneakers and throw them on my feet before leaving my room. The sooner I start this day, the sooner it can be done and spending time alone in my own thoughts was surely going to send me off the deep end. The hallway is empty of anyone, just lines of elaborately framed paintings and tapestries. I have no idea where to look for Vivica, if she is even up at this early hour.

Wandering down the stairs, I go to the most logical place, Vivica’s office. Hesitating to knock, I let my fingers run over the carved panel in the center of the door. It reminds me of the silver case tucked under the bed upstairs, but instead of wings there is an angel bent on its knees. The head bowed, holding a massive sword point down, in front of a body of flowing robes; giving the impression of an angelic guard. It gives me a moment to breathe, concentrating on something other than my crazy situation.

“Is stroking doors normal for country folk?” Abigail’s voice jeers behind me, causing an involuntary groan to escape me.

Turning I find her with a cocked hip and her face twisted into an ugly smile. I meet her eyes, the colour of dark chestnuts, and grant her a mirthless smile, "Well good morning to you too.” I want to keep my interactions with this unnecessarily conflictive shrew to a minimum, but remember I am going to be pleasant today. Pretending to ignore her snotty comment, “Do you know where your mom is?” I ask as kindly as I can muster.

Abigail prowls closer to me with narrowed eyes and halts once she is in my personal bubble. Leaning back against the door, to get some space without giving her the satisfaction of moving, I cross my arms. She is so close I can see the layers of makeup plastered to her face, I swear she used a trowel to apply it. “Maybe it’s not that you are country, maybe being munpraeda makes you simple,” she sneers.

My brain shorted with how combative she was being and I just stare at her overdone face for a moment. Unable to hold back, feeling like she just threw the proverbial gloves down, I blurt, “Interesting being called simple by someone who can not answer a simple question.” Part of me is just happy I resisted the urge to smack the bitchy off her. “Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth? Or should I say it slower?” I pause, “Where is your mom?" I ask punctuating each word slowly. I am poking the bear but it Is hard to not match people’s energy, sometimes.

I watch her face morph in anger, “You need to learn your place munpraeda. Here, you are weaker and lesser than everyone else with your filthy heritage.” This chick is a broken record always talking about me being part human and it was so boring and redundant. Undeterred by my apathetic stare, she continues her tirade, "Strong nemelatro like Michael, do not need you being a damsel in distress and putting them in danger. How dumb do you need to be to not recognize a demon?” she laughs humorlessly. “You need to stay away from Michael and go back where you belong to your bumpkin town; If you know what is good for you.”

The light bulb finally came on, her snarky attitude making sense. I am flabbergasted that the pampered moron thinks I am trying anything with Michael, I barely interacted with the guy. Insecure much. “For your information it is Michael who insisted I stay longer,” I jibed. “Don’t worry princess I am not trying to take your man. And as soon as I can, I plan on going home, so do not get your panties in a twist,” I grit out turning my back to her and raising my hand to knock on Vivica’s office door.

Just as I felt her roughly shove me, the door opened causing me to stumble forward. Never being the graceful type, I keep falling unable to catch myself. Not wanting to see the approach of the floor, I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for impact.

Large hands encompass my shoulders and my face squishes against a firm chest. “Falling fur me awready, urr ye lassie?” Looking up I am met with Gabriel’s grey eyes, ringed in bright blue, wrinkled with laughter. I can not help but pause my attempts to stand, and admire his high cheek bones and chiseled jaw speckled with scruff. He is the definition of a highland wet dream with strong features and flowing ginger locks. His plump lips lift upward further as I scan his face.

Realizing I am staring for far too long, I right myself, but can not suppress the shiver that runs through me as his strong hands linger on my back. “Sorry Casa Nova,” I glare over my shoulder to Abigail, her features schooled in an innocent smile, “I had a helping hand with my fall and it had nothing to do with you.” Pulling myself away, I swear his fingers gripped me before I moved out of his space.

Gabriel flashes me a dazzling toothy smile. “Amurnay complaining aboot a surprise cuddle wi’ a bonny lassie.”

With the thick Scottish accent, it is hard to understand everything he is saying, but the charm he exudes has my cheeks heating. Holding his gaze, my only response is an awkward incredulous stare. Knowing me, it is probably one of my more unattractive looks, so I attempt to school it into a neutral expression.

His eyes chill as he focuses on Abigail behind me. “Cheers fur helping Danielle find yer maw, ah wull hulp her fae ‘ere.” Gabriel’s tone icy as his stair, and Abigail gives no protest, just walking away with a huff. With a gentle hand on my back he pulls me into the room. “Come in lassie, Vivica, Michael ‘n’ ah wur talking aboot oor adventure tae see Cassia.”

Gabriel’s hand on my back guides me further into the room towards a seat at the desk. Michael stands behind it beside Vivica, looking rugged and dangerous clad in an all black military like outfit. His rippling biceps looking ready to rip through the rolled up sleeves of his button up. Moving my eyes to his face, his stormy cobalt ones lock on me, as his jaw works back and forth in apparent irritation. I am just pissing people off without even trying today. I have no idea what I did to deserve the animosity he seems to be exuding, so I avert my gaze to Vivica.

Vivica’s hair is drawn into a messy bun at the back of her head, and her face is bare of a touch of makeup. Even with her casual appearance, her high cheeked caramel face glows regal and friendly. Her teal eyes sparkle in their unique hue, though I can see darkness under her eyes, telling me she did not get the sleep she needed.

“In this bag is some jewels and gold coins, that hopefully is enough to tempt Cassia to help you,” she states quietly pushing a drawstring bag towards me. Pulling another bag from a drawer, “This is an extra bargaining chip if she refuses. I do not want to give it to her unless absolutely necessary,” she sighs. “It is a book of demon ancestry as far as the Adgnite could tell.” When a perplexed expression took over my face, a sympathetic grimace is her counter. “Adgnite Clerics are elite nemelatro that are the keepers of knowledge. One inspected the book when it first came into my possession, and he could read some of it.” Vivica pulled the book free and wistfully inspects the palm sized manuscript, wrapped in cracked tan leather. I could not decipher the black scrawl on the spine of tattered, yellowing pages before Vivica was putting it back in the bag. “He deemed it harmless and I know Cassia has an inclination for anything to do with demons.”

Vivica’s willingness to part with the book for me felt like a kind emulation of Aunt Helen. “I know you are keeping a promise to my aunt but I do appreciate what you are doing to help me,” I smile, doing my best to convey my sincerity. Vivica just responds with a sweet grin, that warms my heart but makes me feel ridiculously awkward at the same time. Having John raise me, has done nothing for my emotional intelligence. “Where and when am I going to trade the loot to fix my eyes?” I ask trying to change the subject.

Vivica hands the bagged book to Michael. “Gabriel and Michael will be escorting you to Cassia’s place in the Medeis Market. I would take you, but having the head of the battalion with you would be more of a hindrance than help. It is best this does not look like official nemelatro business and you go as a regular patrol group.”

Michael with his handsome brooding and Gabriel with exuberant charm have my mind straying places they do not belong, so the thought of going with them, alone, makes me uncomfortable. I am not in a place where I want to even admit they make me feel anything, let alone stew in those feelings. “If you have the address I can use my phone maps and go myself.”

Michael stepped forward as he stowed the bag away in his black cargo pants. “It is unadvisable to go alone and out of the question,” he practically growls.

Vivica places a placating hand on Michael’s arm, “What he means is that Cassia would undoubtedly take advantage of you, since you are so new to anything supernatural. Michael is quite familiar with Cassia and Gabriel frequents the Medeis Market for patrols, hence why they will be taking you.”

“What about Eve? Could she take me?” I questioned trying to ignore Michael’s moody expression and clenching jaw. Gabriel seemed completely unbothered by my request, as he leaned back In the chair beside me, his hands clasped behind his head.

Vivica leant me a patient smile, “Eve and Adam are dealing with other matters today and will not be able to escort you.”

Gabriel gave a deep rumbling laugh, “Ease up Michael, ah think yer making her uncomfortable. Dinna fash yirsel lassie, ah dinnae bite.”

Michael shot a glare towards Gabriel but then seemed to heed his advice and dropped the scowl. “No, no, Michael didn’t do anything wrong,” I exclaimed as I fretted with my fingers. “It’s just I already got him injured and don’t want to be anymore trouble,” I finished mumbling into my lap. My attempt at avoiding Michael and Gabriel was just making things even more awkward.

“You are not causing trouble,” Michael’s deep bass voice, purred, causing butterflies to gather in my stomach, much to my dismay. I am starting to wonder if it has just been too long since I was with a man, causing my hormones to go crazy around the two hulking, Adonis of men in my presence.

“Well since that is all sorted, will you all excuse me, Thomas and I have a meeting with the local Alpha but if you need me just call my cell.” Vivica stood from her desk, giving me a slip of paper with her number and a warm hug I could not help but sink into.

Once Vivica left, I started to feel self conscious but forced myself to look to Michael as I stood from my seat. “When do we leave?”

I felt Gabriel behind me and turning I was met with his charming smile. He leaned in close enough that I could see the baby blue speckling his grey eyes. Twisting a loose lock of my hair around his finger, he practically whispered in my ear, “We lea as soon as yer duin, lassie.”

“Oh,” I stammered, backing up until I ran into a warm wall. Looking over my shoulder to find Michael. My nerves spiked and the stupid ass butterflies made my stomach feel like a mess, so I stepped out from between the two men. “I am as ready as I will ever be.”

“Good,” Michael rumbled before grabbing my hand, practically dragging me from the office with Gabriel following.

As we get outside I find a sleek black Mercedes sedan parked beside my junky blue neon; it made my poor car look even worse. Michael held the passenger door open, waiting for me to sit down. Taking a deep breathe I get in, preparing to act normal even while these men have my stomach doing back flips.

“Git comfy, traffic micht mak’ this a lang trip tae th’ merkat,” Gabriel commented while seating himself in the back.

Michael slides into the driver seat and stares at me expectantly. When I just stare back, he reaches across me, his face close enough to nuzzle my neck, and pulls my seat belt across me. “Buckle up,” he says before throwing the car into gear and making his way down the driveway, away from the house.

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*I used an English to Scottish slang translator I found through google. Hopefully, Gabriel is speaking properly 😅 It is a bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy it.*





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