∞
I scrubbed my hands in the silver basin, using blessed water to wash any remains of magic from my arms. I had my back turned to Paris, but could see him opening his mouth every few seconds, his tan reflection rippling in the body of the basin. He once even lifted his finger up in the air, as if trying to flag down a waiter, before lowering it back down and clenching his fists. After several minutes of this, with only the sound of the running water audible, my patience finally ran thin.
"What is it?!" I snapped at him, getting tired of his restlessness. It was simultaneously making me antsy, which was not good for my collectivity. Paris cleared his throat, making a guilty expression, as if he was caught doing something he was not supposed to be doing.
"I didn't say anything" He said after a long pause. I shook my hands off and grabbed a rag from the pile of neatly folded, sterile towels, turning around to face him.
"You've been standing there, gaping like a fish since the moment I turned my back. Just spit it out" I demanded, my impatience evident through my tone. It was late, and he was robbing me of precious time spent with my dear night, sleeping.
"Well..." he cleared his throat, "Uhm...How do you know so much about Vampyrs?" Paris blurted suddenly. I stared at him, his words echoing off the tiled, morgue walls. His face looked shocked, as if he had not intended to blurt that out. Whatever he was meaning to say, he had swallowed down besides just spitting it out like a real woman. Men were always so consistent with their cowardice.
"I told you already; my sister got caught with one back in our fourth year" I replied to him slowly, removing my white lab coat and sweeping my silvery hair up into a fresh pony-tail.
"Yes, but you knew an awful lot of details about them and their habits..." He trailed on, asking me to continue. I didn't know what he really wanted to ask me, but forcing me to indulge in a topic that neither of us had interest in... it was ludicrous. Was he just conversing with me to delay the inevitable conversation? I did not know. A sigh emitted from my lips as I leaned back onto the counter behind me.
"Vivienne Syphamore" I said with a hint of resignation. When he simply blinked at me, his brows furrowing in confusion, I continued, "Pytha didn't just hook up with a Vampyr, she used to date one. She called her Vivi"
"Used to? What happened? Is your sister okay?" Paris asked in genuine concern. My face scrunched up, my lips turning down in annoyance. What on earth was he on about?
"Uh, yes? Vivi moved to California for college, so they broke up" I stated, giving him a look of annoyance while shaking my head in exasperation. Why was he always jumping to the worst conclusions about us?
"But anyways," I continued, shooting him a look, "she was around for quite a bit of time, and I befriended her. It made no sense not to, since she was always lounging around the house with Pytha. Getting to know a Vampyr is a ridiculously enlightening experience"
"And your parents were okay with it?" Paris asked, sounding genuinely astounded. He knew my mother- to an extent of formalities and politeness- and understood that she was not the type to let her daughter run rampant with a Vampyr.
"Definitely not" I scoffed, remebering the way my mothers face looked when she was called into school for Pytha's violation. It was a happy, happy day for me, knowing that mother was reeling in anger. Pytha was already bound by the time mother came trouncing into the school, the floor ablaze from her warpath. Her look of rage from her helplessness in the situation, made up my happy thoughts for ages after.
"Wilhemine threw a monumental fit when she found out" I chuckled lowly, my face twisting in a cruel smile. Of course, my extensive knowledge on Vampyrs was not confined to the limited interactions I had with my older sisters side piece, but that was neither her business nor Paris's.
"Wilhemine?" Paris repeated. My eyes flickered up at him, focusing in my eyesight after staring off into space. Why was this boy always confused? Did he not have comprehension skills, or was he just used to everyone dumbing things down for him?
"Yes. My mother. Wilhemine" I repeated myself slowly, as if talking to a mentally deficient baboon. I checked the clock on the wall, seeing how late it was and trying to decipher why Paris was always wasting my time with his moronic questions.
"You call your mother by her first name?" Paris asked his lips pulling down into a frown, looking absolutely flabbergasted at the statement.
"Of course we do. Being called 'Mother' makes her feel old" And Nyx forbid she's reminded of the one thing she can't control: time. Despite her best efforts of staying young and powerful, with the help of her unauthorized healing elixir "treatments", she could not stop time. She would eventually age past her prime and fall from grace, and hopefully that fall would be from multiple stories up. I relished in the fact that this maddened her, and her abuse of potions did nothing to alleviate her worries.
"So all of you simply call her Wilhemine? Isn't that disrespectful?" Paris asked again, irking me further.
"Reminding her that she's related to us, by calling her 'mom', is disrespectful as it is. I doubt formality is on the forefront of her worries. And besides, my oldest brother, Axel, calls her Mother" I grit out. Exhaustion nipped at my mind. I wanted to sleep, my eyelids growing more leaden by the moment. As did my irritation.
"Why?" He asked, sounding genuinely confused, "why is he allowed to call her 'mother' when the rest of you can't? Is it because he's eldest?"
"Of course not. It's because he is her favorite" I replied curtly.
At that, Paris' face morphed into full blown shock. His sandy eye brows were furrowed, a shadow appearing between. It was obvious, depicted by his disturbed expression, that he was unfamiliar to my family dynamic.
"I'm sure that's not...true" Paris began, attempting to coddle my indifferent feelings. I couldn't care less that Axel was her favorite, and Paris mustn't pretend like it wasn't the truth. He was trying salvage the tender feelings he assumed I had towards the subject. But I didn't. It was fact in my family, and I was the last person to bear ill will over it. And besides, It was none of Paris' business anyways, my family dynamic or my feelings towards it.
"And I'm sure that it's not any of your business, is it? Last time I checked, we aren't friends, so stop prying into my life" I spat at him, irritated a new. I was tired, sleep-deprived, and drained of my magic. Paris was doing nothing to help relieve my nerves, and I wanted out of the morgue so that I wouldn't have the dead eavesdropping on my conversation. Paris advocating for my mothers character also pissed me off beyond expression.
My mother was—more often than not—a nightmare. She cast the illusion of a dream- beautiful and unattainable, but I knew her true nature. It's a pity that other could not do the same. They lacked the wit, to look past the glamour she cast over the vile reality of her personality. The flashiness of her being the East Coast Coven's Matron of Magic blinding them. Of course Paris, with his naivity and Light Mage goodness campaign, turned a blind eye to my mothers two-faced, superficiality. It was in his nature, really, to see only what he wanted to see.
"Right. Sorry" Paris stated, blushing slightly. His tan face turned a shade of a soft pink. Of course he blushed perfectly too. His shade didn't mimic that of a bloody tomatoes, unlike some of us, when he got embarrassed, but that of a soft rose. Splendid.
My eyes trailed to his arm where the calka bite was. It had turned a sickly shade of white, and I knew it had to be treated. The demon itself no longer threatened Paris, but infection did.
"You need to treat that" I pointed out his arm. Paris blinked before looking down at his forearm.
"Right..." He said, unsure where he stood in this conversation.
"Do you have anyone to treat it? Anyone you can trust to keep their mouth shut?"
He shook his head at me, "Usually I would go to Aline...but... you know". Paris gestured at her corpse on the metal trolley. I nodded solemnly.
"Come on then" I sighed at Paris, outstretching my hand. I observed the room one last time, making sure it was spotless and could in no way be traced back to us. Paris did not move, staring dumbstruck at my outstretched hand. Loosing my patience, I snapped at him.
"Come on now. We don't have all night" I snapped. Breaking him out of his stupor, he scrambled towards me. I did not unclench my fist when he grabbed it, refusing to allow him to hold my hand. I shuddered upon the contact, wanting to crawl out of my skin. I gathered my remaining strength, in an attempt to forget about the uncomfortable warmth surrounding my wrist. With what remaining magic I had, pushing myself one last time, I launched us into the shadows and back out in my room.
Carrying two people besides just myself over was significantly more difficult than I had presumed, and both me and Paris collapsed into the room. I lay sprawled out on the cool stone, trying to catch my breath. Paris did the same, unused to shadow travel. After a moments rest, I pushed myself up on shaking arms and dragged myself up towards my trunk.
Kneeling infront of it, I began digging through my medical supplies. Pulling out a healing elixir that acted as an antibiotic flush, regular gauze wraps and anti-septic cleanser, I shut the lid of the trunk.
"Hey" I shouted at Paris. He moaned from the floor, where he lay face down. I really hoped he was not dead. I crawled towards him, cradling my medical supplies like one would an infant.
"Hey" I shoved his shoulder, shaking him to wake up. He groaned a garbled "osjnajdj" at me and I shoved him again. What was he so exhausted for? He wasn't the one who singlehandedly brought a girl back from the dead.
"We need to treat your damn arm before it gets infected" I told him, attempting to flip him over. My muscles burned from the extortion. Why was this boy so big? He was the size of a bloody troll. Pushing himself up on his arms, Paris managed to flip himself onto his back.
He stared up at my ceiling, before muttering out, "Your. Demon"
"Yeah, yeah. He's locked up. Don't worry about it. He needs to get familiarized with your scent anyways, if we expect our collaboration to work" I grumbled to him, pushing up his sleeve.
"Drink this" I shoved the healing elixir at his mouth. Paris eyed it suspiciously, before glancing at me nervously.
"I'm not trying to poison you, you oaf. Just drink it" I snapped, ripping open the gauze packet. Paris dubiously brought it to his lips, swallowing the violet liquid. While he swallowed, I poured the anti-septic on his arm. Paris hissed from the sudden pain, and began choking on the drink.
"Keep drinking" I snapped at him, refusing to wait for him to calm down from his coughing fit. I poured the anti-septic onto the bite once more. Paris tensed, but did not shout out this time. I could only imagine how much it stung, but I could not have him toddling over to the infirmary. It would be a dead giveaway if they realized he had a demon bite on his arm.
When the magical disinfectant trickled into the wound, clearing the white color of it back to normal, I slapped the healing patch on it. Paris' body jerked forward instinctually and I rolled my eyes. Men are such babies.
"Ow?" he said, looking at me in disbelief. His face had retained it's color, the healing elixir doing it's job properly. It was meant specifically for wounds of demonic origin, so I'm sure he'd be fine. Hopefully.
"Oh stop whining. I'm not your nursemaid. I'm only helping you because if I don't, you'll go straight to the infirmary. And you showing up at the infirmary with a demon bite would be a straight sellout. In case you're forgetting, that demon can be traced back to me, and I refuse to be exposed over a teeny little bite"
"Teeny? It's hardly what I call teeny!" Paris outraged at me, sitting up straight. I underestimated how much the elixir would heal him. It apparently gave him enough strength to argue with me. He was right about the bite though; it was technically fatal if not treated, but he didn't have to be such a baby about it. You didn't see me crying about every little wound. Even when my neck was peeling off from burns, I didn't go the infirmary. I sucked it up and dealt with it myself.
"Yeah, yeah. Men are such babies" I grumbled out, gathering up my supplies from the floor. I took a swig of the elixir myself, to heal the scratches on my face, before placing them back into the trunk.
"Where's Beastly?" Paris asked suspiciously, looking about the room as if I were hiding him under my bed. That wasn't even possible, considering the fact that my bed was on a platform. The only thing under my bed were the stairs that led up to it.
"Locked up within the shadows" I replied, refusing to clarify. Sir Beastly was waiting just on the other side of the Veil. He could sense me and Paris, but couldn't break through. I imagined that he could see us though, as one might through a one sided mirror. Besides, he was recently fed, so he had no interest in eating Paris at the moment. Again. Hopefully.
"You're drained. How are you keeping him there?" Paris asked me again, and I rubbed my temple. Dear Godess make him stop talking.
"Oh, now you notice that I'm drained, do you? It's none of your business! Get out! Now" I snapped at him.
"How? Curfew is still in place" Paris pointed out. He technically couldn't leave through the door, seeing that students were locked into their rooms till curfew was lifted.
"Well spotted, detective. You're leaving the same way you came!" I neared him. Immedietly he began spewing protests, saying he refused to go back in the shadows. A little nausea hardly killed anyone. I cornered Paris in, completely ignoring his protests.
Paris snapped his mouth shut as I came close, placing my hands on his chest. His green eyes were wide, eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline in shock. He stared down at me, frozen in place with his mouth partially gaping. His hands were clasped behind his back and just out of my reach, probably assuming that I could only drag him between realms unless I had a steady grip on him. My palms were innocently laid flat on his chest as I smiled up at him. I summoned all my shadows, using this momentary contact to buy his way through the shadow realm. If I just threw him in on his own, he most definitely would get stuck somewhere.
"Goodbye, Paris" I said to him in a sing-song manner. Without warning, I shoved him into the shadows. A garbled shout escaped his lips as he fell backwards into the shadow realm. I watched his face morph from shock to betrayal. For a split second, he fell through the shadow tunnel before landing into his own room. He peered at me from the other side and I gave him a small wave, before slamming the door in his face. Dusting my hands off from the interaction, I trudged to my restroom to drown myself in the bathtub, before climbing into bed and passing out from exhaustion.