Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Nine

She shook her head, no. "Whoever said it was behind a closed door. I only heard it as I was going to the dining room."

Hans abruptly stood up, grasped the glass he had put down and made his way to the mantle where several bottles were lined up. The various trinkets were still here, too, a space where the horse with the crouching man once was. The light from the fire in the fireplace danced across his face and shone in his eyes. He gazed into the flames. His back was to Ellen, so she couldn't see his facial emotions. His hair was held in a loose half-bun; the length of it folded half-way and looped into an elastic band. This was now tainted gold from the light hue.

"A sire," he began, his tone slow and purposeful. "Is a word the Necromancers use to describe their leader, their supreme ruler. The structure of that race isn't like ours – not one bit." He turned to face Ellen, her face was in a grimace now. "They were once a very reputable race and upheld morals that we still hold. All of those moral pillars were abolished when one of them in particular had a different ideology and overthrew the leader. When this happened, the hierarchy changed too. The sire stands above everyone else and keeps everyone else supressed. The word is somewhat shunned here. They believe that Necromancers should be thankful to serve their sire and if they aren't thankful, they receive punishment which is usually death. If you displease them, he will usually punish you indirectly by killing someone close to you. He also isn't afraid to dispense of his own for personal gain. One more; one less. It is nothing to him. It's nothing to Lucien." Hans spat his name.

Ellen bowed her head, trying to put the pieces of everything together. The more she did this, the more her heart sunk. Her nails sunk into the armrests of the chair. She wish she knew this, she could have told Hans and Claudia there and then. He could have been questioned. Hans pressed onwards.

"Lucien is hungry for one thing – power. Both Necromancers and Tempusmancers believe in a prophecy and it states that a person is born every century that is more powerful than all others. Knowing this, the sire has made it his vision to harness those abilities and create the hybrid I told you about earlier."

She felt a stone in her throat. Trying to speak, she stammered on her own words. Hearing all this made her feel as if she needed to faint; the light-headedness and nausea. She felt unnaturally warm and clammy, sweating starting to sit on her skin.

"We believe you're that person Ellen, and that they are trying to snatch you for experimental purposes. They were almost successful once already. It's important you remain safe. The fact you heard someone even mutter that word – yet alone, call someone that word – means that there is someone between us that is feeding off information to him. It also means that you were right, we can't trust anyone. It means we are compromised."

The atmosphere grew to be tense once more as there was an ashen silence. Hans lifted the glass to his lips and had a swig whilst Ellen sat in the armchair, lost for words. "You saved my life...," she stammered.

"It's part of a Master's duty. But I also think Claudia needs to hear this for herself so she can make an informed decision on how best to approach this. Will you call her or will I?" How Hans had brushed this off caught Ellen by surprise. He made it appear as if it was no big deal, just a simple feat. She felt herself further consumed by the nausea that had washed over her before. She felt as if she was flying high and then suddenly shot out of the sky. The happiness, the calmness, she experienced only ten minutes previously now dissipated.

"I will," she whispered, attempting to muster enough energy as she could. Given her current state, she didn't know whether she was strong enough to send the call out so it would reach Claudia. Regardless and determined to try, she closed her eyes and imagined Claudia in her mind. She called out to her, unsure whether she heard her. She called again, and again; energy draining from her body each and every time. Seconds ticked by, reaching a full minute. Nothing, not a sign. Feeling disappointed, she let herself slide further in her chair and bit her lip.