When Letha woke, her neck ached and she rolled her head around with a grunt. The armchair had been an uncomfortable place to sleep, but she had refused anywhere else. Clicking her jaw, Letha swung her legs off the armrest, and her hand flew to her forehead.
The wind is cold, soft, and the young girl hides a shiver. She’s curled up on a hill, her arms wrapped around her legs as she buried her face in the crook of her elbow.
“Letha?”
Jerking to her feet, Letha raked a curl out of her face, grinding her teeth. Her nightmare still haunted her, but Letha shoved the memories savagely to the back of her mind. Somebody coughed, and she spun to face the front door.
The voice is persistent. “Letha?”
Very slowly, the girl raises her head. Her cheeks are streaked with tears of blood, red tendrils trailing across her face. Two brown eyes are inches from hers, practically beaming.
“Hello darling.”
Swallowing quickly, Letha eyed the open door. No one was standing there, but as Letha edged to the side, she could make out a seated figure. It was still dark, and she had to squint to see. The person threw back their head with a sigh, drumming their fingers on the deck slats.
“I don’t understand.”
Flinching, Letha’s hand flew to her heart in surprise. Her mouth hung open, but she had nothing to say.
“What don’t you understand, boy?”
Quite positive she hadn’t spoken, Letha’s eyes darted to Archer’s splayed form. She could feel her heart charging, but as it calmed, Archer’s head rolled and his met her eyes.
“Letha.” She flinched again as Mickey spoke, but leaning around the corner, she saw he wasn’t talking to her. “I don’t understand Letha. At all.”
“Few do,” Archer muttered, smirking at Letha before rolling his head back to Mickey. “What would you like to know?”
“What?” he snapped, shock layering his tone.
“Ask me what you’d like to know. Perhaps I can help,” the vampire grated, grinding his teeth.
Letha grimaced at his prone form, rolling her eyes, but Mickey was already nodding. “Thank you.”
“Ask away.”
After a strained pause, the boy licked his lips. “Why is Letha the way she is?”
Archer let out a soft, dark chuckle, “Beat around the bush, why don’t you?”
When he didn’t get a response, the man let out a breath and continued, “Letha wasn’t always this way, not entirely.”
Letha’s eyes flew closed and she gripped her head.
The woman, strokes the little girl’s face, wiping aside the tears. “Now, now, Dearest, don’t cry. It’s a beautiful day, why be sad?”
The girl doesn’t reply, shaking her head, and buries her face again. The woman stands and takes a careful step away. As her weight settles on two feet, the girl screams in agony. She writhes on her back, her knuckles white as she claws the ground.
“When she was younger, Letha didn’t realise that her family was abnormal. She didn’t realise that most mothers didn’t cry themselves to sleep every night, or try to kill themselves when they got pregnant. She didn’t realise that most daughters weren’t afraid of their fathers and uncles, and didn’t know how to bandage cuts. She didn’t know…”
Archer trailed off. When his eyes flashed open again, they met Letha’s for a second, and she tried to stop him from speaking. Don’t, she mouthed.
Ignoring her, Archer turned back to Mickey. “When she was 8, Letha’s mother killed in a hit and run. Witnesses claimed she threw herself in front of the car.”
Fire runs through the girls frame, burning her from the inside out. Her spine arches, and her eyes flicker feverishly over her head. A blurred figure, beams of light protruding from their shoulder blades, lean over her. Very gently, fingers press to her forehead, sending a wave of cool down the girl’s frame. She settles with a rugged breath, staring into rich, brown eyes. A blue curl tumbles into his face but as the girl’s hand rose he pulled away.
“After that, Letha’s father and uncles got worse. I’ve been with them for a long time, many more years than Letha ever will be, but after Frannie died the sins became more aggressive, more bloodthirsty, more ruthless,” Archer sighed, swallowing heavily.
Mickey stared at him. Very slowly, his hand came up to grip his jaw, “And Letha? Hadrian?”
“They had no choice but to do as they were ordered,” the vampire spat, “Letha hardened inside trying to shield her brother. She was never weak, never particularly compassionate or kind, but she had to abandon her…humanity to survive life as her father’s daughter.”
Letha bristled at his words, but her thoughts had already been ripped back to her dream.
The bright woman of moments ago has dimmed, leaving a broken shell hanging in the distance. Crimson liquid drips to the ground, pooling and then spilling down the hill. It clutches at the little girl’s bare feet, trying to draw her back as she wades toward the woman.
With golden wings, the boy descends before her, gesturing to the heavens. He offers her a hand, smiling softly, but the girl brushes it aside as the world went black.
Sharp talons rip at the girl’s flesh and she whips out at unseen enemies.
“Let me go!”
Her screams are swallowed by the black as she tumbles to her knees. Stones, claws, boots, blades – they batter bruise and bleed her as she squirmed for a reprieve. A sob wracks her chest.
“No, no, no – please, leave me alone.”
Curling in on herself, the child lets her tears fall, wallowing in the bitter sting as the salt meets blood.
“It hurts. Please stop.”
Then someone is shaking her, calling her name, but her assailants just hit her harder.
“Go away.”
The shaking persists, firm hands bruising her arms.
“Letha, wake up.”
The girl clenches her eyes shut, trying to bury the pain and the voice in a chest, shoving them deep beneath the folds of the wedding dress.
“You’re fine, Letha, open your eyes.”
As the words echo through the girl’s head, her eyes flash open and she meets the woman’s gaze with relief. The brunette is smiling, happy again, and there is no sign of the noose.
As the words echoed through Letha’s head, her eyes flashed open and met the concerned gaze of the boy, without his wings. His nose was centimetres from hers, his hands gripping just below her shoulders and acting on instinct, Letha raised her fist. Shock flashed across Mickey’s face as her knuckles connected with his cheekbone, and he stumbled to the side.
On the porch, Archer made a sound of approval. “Lovely right cross, Cousin.”
Mickey sent him a dirty look. His lip was split, blood trickling over the fingers that nursed his chin, and smeared across the sleeve of his shirt ad he wiped at it.
“What happened?” Letha croaked out, avoiding both of their gazes.
“You finally went psychotic.”
The vampire just grinned when she glared at him, and Letha could almost imagine that he was human and not crucified to the ground. Almost.
“You started screaming,” Mickey muttered, “And when I came in, you were clutching your head and yelling ‘get off me’. I tried to wake you, but it was like you were in a trance.” He shook his head. “And then you hit me.”
Letha ground her teeth, “Right.”
Feeling Archer’s eyes on her, she scowled at him. “What?”
“I was waiting for your explanation…”
Before Letha could snap out her reply, Mickey cut her off. “Keep waiting.”
“Do you want me to hit you again?”
Biting down on a grin, the boy shook his head at her, “Do you want me to want you to hit me again?”
Very slowly, Archer’s head craned to glare at him. Had he not been pinned to the ground he would have throttled the boy. Luckily, Letha seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“Go sit on something sharp and rotate,” she spat, spinning away from him and striding to the armchair. As she sunk down, pulling her knees to her chest, Mickey looked anything but remorseful. He folded his arms.
“What? You can dish the wit out but you can’t take it?
Letha’s fingers curled into her palms, her nails pricking her skin. “Ask me that again when you say something witty.”
He just shook his head again.
The vampire looked between them quickly, his brow furrowing. “So you’re not going to tell us what was running through your head?” It had been a long time since Archer had seen Wrath’s daughter cry, and curiosity burned more than the wood in his flesh.
Letha’s eyes flicked to Archer, “I think not.”
“Then would you mind,” he asked, cocking his head at the horizon, “un-staking me before I become ex-undead.”
“Oh,” she murmured, her lip curling up, “I think not. You never know what a psycho like me might be capable of.”
Mickey frowned at her, stepping outside. Gingerly, he hopped across the vampire, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Archer cringed.
“Your peers say it; you swear at them or ignore them,” he groaned, “I say it; you refused to unpin me from the veranda. I think that’s very unfair.”
“Life’s a bitch.”
Even as she said it, Letha couldn’t help a shiver as her nightmare crossed her mind. She blinked and her mother’s hanging form haunted her. As Archer let out a strangled cry, she let her eyes flash open again. He and Mickey were silhouetted by the rising sun, but the sight was more dreary than her dreams.
“And then you die,” she finished.