Betrayal Of The Highest

Chapter|Five

IIt was so terrible! Mom dragged through the town everyday she was here. She made me try this smell and put on that outfit, she piled foundation thick and heavy on my face. She had my eyebrows plucked. And when it was all done I collapsed on my bed with the door shut behind me. My feet hurt so much from all the walking all over the town. There was a soft knock on my door. "Ugh." I groaned in my pillow. "Go away." It was silent, and there was another knock.

I groaned as the door opened and closed softly. "Meg." The emotionless voice of my brother was soft, it made me sit up. "Mother is trying to turn you in her image." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "He sent you this letter." Edmund informed me in his hand was a white envelope. He tossed the letter to me, I tried to catch it but it fell on the floor. But I was closer
    Edmund isn't my blood brother. He doesn't have fair colored hair, soft grey eyes like us. He was dark brown eyes and a mossy brown hair. He was tall and lean, similar body frame like Victor. His real parents died when he was one and my parents took him in. But he is my brother. "Thanks." I mumbled picking it up before I laid back down. I don't remember what it was that made him stop having emotions. But one day it happen, I think it was after his parents died.
    "Meg."
    "Oh my god, what do you want?" I sat back up. He walked forward to me. He touched my face with his warm fingers. He leaned close his lips brushing my ear. My eyes went large. It wasn't until my brother walked out of my room that I understood what he had said.
    "If they find evidence Victor Loiseau will die." I knew what I had to do, I would search before they could find something against him. He left me before I could say anything. I opened the letter first, and when everyone goes to sleep I will become a ninja.

Dear Meghan,

Don't be mad, but I think I have decided to stay here on the island. It's quite nice, just the right amount of torture and suffering.

I read to myself. Outside the traffic was heavy.

My death will be certain.

That was the last words on the sheet of white paper. There was no goodbye or anything else. Just specks of blood on the paper. I stood dropping the letter on the floor. I threw on clothes. My heart was racing as I got dress and slipped running shoes on. I don't know what is wrong with me.

    Two blocks in an older part of town, sits an old grey Victorian. It was small with three floors and It sat on the side of an hill. Victor's house. Victor spends most of his time at our house, so I never really been to his house. In fact I only been here once. It was when I actually liked being around him, odd right? I was eight. Mom had a large trip she was attending. Alec had moved just down to Texas and Dad and Edmund went to Ireland to the Leaders of the Court. Since I am too weak, I wasn't aloud to go. Since I would be home alone, they sent me to Victor's.
    I remember falling asleep on his lap listening to him read books to me, only to wake up in his large bed alone. He helped me with my third grade homework. He would make me pancakes in the shape of Pokemon or Mickey Mouse. For dinner we would go out. It was fun and he loved it just as much as I did. But that was the only and the last time I did that. For I got sick for a entire week and then he became annoying.
    I held the key to the front door. Last Christmas it was a gift to me. No one in my family had a key but me. But of course I would, in August I will be living with Victor. Taking a deep breath I unlocked the grey front door. I was greeted by a puff of cold air. The smell of Victor's cologne choked the stale air. They haven't been here yet, good. I closed the door behind me, locking it. I was leaving the night air on the other side of the door only to welcome a new darkness. The darkness of Victor's personal space a space that I haven't been in for a long time.
    I took a deep breath and turn on the hall light. I will check his office first. His office in the back of the house. The creepy part if I remember correctly.
    I moved slowly, but the hard wood moaned under my weight. The small wooden door, a door maybe six feet tall and half that. There was a little doodle in purple crayon, when I stayed at his house I wanted to draw but there was no paper, so I got to draw on the dark wooden doors.
    He never wanted anyone in his study, he never told me why and I never asked. So with a deep breath I grabbed the handle and was welcomed into a dark, freezing room. It was a musky smell, like it have not been open in a while. I flipped the light switched. The light buzzed and came back to life slowly. I walked over to his mahogany desk. It was cluttered with paper and picture frames. I turned those frames around. To my surprise they were of me. My spring photo of my eighth grade year when I had short hair and big bulky glasses , ninth grade when the tips of my hair was blue, tenth grade when I got out of glasses and got contacts so I wouldn't look like a nerd. And this year's fall picture sat beside it, I wasn't smiling in this picture my hair was falling in my face.
    I couldn't believe he had these, and they were on his desk. There was something that caught my eye, a letter. And it was to me. I picked up and begin to read it.

    Meghan.

    It started out.

    If you are reading this, then you went snooping, again. But you won't find anything. Sucks to be you!!

    I shoved it angrily into my pocket. I heard the footsteps in the house, coming this way. "Who would think that vamp would leave the lights on or even leave the door unlocked." A male voice laughed. I turn the light off and slipped beneath Victor's desk. "What was that?"
    "The wind, Charles." Another voice commented. "Is this it?"
    "Yeah." The door to the studied opened and the light came on. I tensed up pulling my legs to my chest. I stayed silent.
    "There has to be evidence." One commented. "And when we find it, one call to the Leaders and bye-bye goes the Count." The Count was another name they called Victor. But not many do. From the tone of his voice this man hated Victor. "There is a lot of pictures of this girl." They were going through the papers on his desk. My heart was beating quickly. If they looked under the desk, I am screwed.
    "Oh, you didn't know?" I could see their feet near me, I stayed still.
    "Know what?"
    "He is betrothed, dear friend. To that girl, Meghan Arnold I believe. The daughter of Charles Arnold." The one laughed.
    "I heard stories about her."
    Stories of me? What stories? I couldn't believe what could have been possible said about me.
    "What stories?"
    "She is a bastard child. The little holy blood she has is little to gone." My heart stopped. "In other words she is simply human." I couldn't believe it, but then I could. It made sense, Mom was never home and then in the midst of her traveling I became born.
    "That is just a rumor." The other one whispered in the silence. Then they continue to go through, knocking things down, opening drawers.
    "Shit!" Paper fell to the paper fell to the floor. "There is nothing of importance!"
    "Relax." The other one chuckled. "There is two other floors." But if there was something of any importance Victor would only put it in the room he didn't aloud anyone in.
    But he left that letter in here, he knew that I would come in here. The was a soft light shining on some tap underneath the desk. An large yellow envelope. He was hiding it from something. Could this be what they are looking for? Evidence of the murders of our warriors? I waited until the lights went off and they slipped out of the room to the up stairs before I took it down.
    But when I escaped the Victor's house and entered the safety of my room, I opened it. But there was nothing but empty blank papers.
    Why would he hid blank piece of paper beneath his desk? Unless, he his trying to throw the Society off. Or it could be invisible ink. I lit a candle and moved the paper over it. I was right, invisible ink. But it was in French, one of many language that wasn't English that I couldn't read or speak. He must have written in French figuring I would find it and not be able to read it. Oh my god, I dropped the papers on the floor next to an teddy bear and high heel. Could he actually be a criminal to the Society? Or is he protecting someone who is?
    I as sat down on my bed, I heard a crunching noise. Startled I threw off the blankets and stared. There under the mingles of colorful comforter sat a crinkled up paper. A old yellow paper. There was a poem as well. I straightened it out, glancing at it.

Come forth the Rain and wind,

Take hold of my swollen heart.

Take the breath of life that settles in my bosom,

Crush it like the Death Gods grip.

All of my senses have been lost,

Her death shall be mine.

She is War and I am Death, I shall follow thee to hell.

    It wasn't very poetic, it was romantic either. In fact it was creepy and weird. My heart stopped. "Death Gods grip..." someone mentioned that. Ashton did, he claimed he was part of the Death god. I can't remember his name, the gods. "She is War and I am death...". Morrigan and Ankou. The goddess of war and the god of death. But why?

    The room grew a chill. I know all this, the symbolisms. Everything. I know the answers but they just won't come to me.  I wonder...