COVER ON THE SIDE BY YOUCANCALLMEANDY
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Recap:
It was only then when he turned the corner. I haven't bothered to shield my face, in worries that the man in my presence would capture a glance of the person before him. Instead, I crouch carelessly against the farthest corner of my cell and stare blatantly at him.
He reeked of Council.
"Charlotte Taken. The Head of the Council requests to have an interrogation to discuss the conflict that lies before us. I don't expect you to understand the facts but it must be done. The questioning will be held tomorrow. I'll be here at sunrise to bring you," the man had notified. I went rigid and pursed my lips to keep myself from gaping at the sudden news.
Author's Note: This chapter is pretty important, do not skip this. And, keep in mind that the Council is made up of the six originals:
Original werewolf: Jackson [(aka Head of the Council) Remember that werewolves DO NOT live forever, they age and wither just like humans. But since Jackson is an original, he was given the power to live for an eternity.]
Original angel: Cecily
Original witch: Millicent
Original fairy: Theophilia
Original vampire: Derrick
Original reaper: Chauncey
x unedited
Chapter 22: Lost Soul
Charlotte's POV
I'd never imagined to find myself sinking into the darkest realms of my cruel reality. I thought I could survive by hiding, living a life that would seem entirely too nonexistent. But that's not really living, is it?
I imagined living was a little like licking that shard, I knew it was absurd, I knew I'd get cut. After all these years one thing hadn't changed: I was still lured by danger and the exhilaration that came with.
Living seemed like an unreachable dream, something far too elusive for my own good. But despite the odds that were striving to drag me into the ruins of earth, I still chased after it. And I'm still chasing after something that could be nothing but a ridiculous notion.
I am lost. I am disoriented. I am broken.
But that was perfectly fine. I was born that way.
❧ ✶ ❧
Just as I'd awoken, the frigid air wrapped around me, and when I breathed in, it filled me with ice. It felt familiar, something I'd always experienced when I lived in the orphanage. And because of that, my past ultimately took place in the present, and I'm left to go through it all over again.
By now, I should've gotten used to it; it should've gotten easier. But in retrospect, it became worse. Each and every time the burning sensations of guilt and loss washed over me, I felt numb - number than the last. My brokenness felt unfixable - too shattered and crumbled to ever be touched.
In the days to come, I was going to discover I was never going to get used to all the pain, nor will it become any easier. Though, at this moment, I can't do much but pray that it will, that all the horror would pass over without taking its toll on me -
without making me the way I am now.
So caught up was I with my own thoughts that I barely noticed the raucous chuckles from the corridor that seemed to get louder, footsteps drawing closer. Then, altogether, the noise ceased, until you couldn't hear anything but the faintness of my own breaths. Because of that, I hardly realized that there was another presence in the cellar, hovering just inches away from the exit.
I saw him. The technique he used to maneuver around the room - how imperceptible and graceful his steps were - made me put my guard up. I could no longer depend on my hood for safety anymore, for that it had been taken away, most likely being burned with the rest of my belongings and my worth to the supernatural world.
"It's time," the guard announces, impassively, his voice light with trepidation. I all but paled at the sight of him but when he spoke, I knew I was going to be met with the infamous Head of the Council in just a matter of time. And that added nothing but fuel to the fire.
For one last moment, I fill myself with thoughts of my adoptive family, where Daniel would constantly be the immature meathead he was, cackling at all the stupid jokes and armpit farts he'd conjured up. And like any other brother, his eyes would swivel past the crowd during a laugh and paused on me, cautiously gauging for a reaction of my own.
Then, Macy and Derek, my adoptive parents who'd care for me, attempt to replace my old life style with a brand new one. Something that was worth remembering.
Came in my friends, whom in which kept me standing when I was threatening to tumble. Minutes spent with Maria, Casey, Jeff, and Alex have been momentous and I never - not once - regretted meeting them.
My breath hitched in my throat when I reached the one last person that meant the world to me. Someone who I'd put on the pedestal where he was capable of hurting me in any way possible.
Trent.
I reminisced through our many interactions, which had all been filled with such warmth and comfort that it made my toes curl. Albeit, moments like those don't last forever. Because when he had finally unbroken me, made me feel a happiness that I never thought existed, he broke me all over again. And I knew, he had forgotten me forever.
Perhaps, it was time to forget about him too. Deep inside, I knew it was only right because what was love when one's love wasn't returned? Nada. It was nothing.
Snapping back to reality, the guard let out a muffled sound of annoyance, and marched forward, carefully unlocking the silver bars. He slid it open, and when his eyes met mine, I found myself looking away. His gaze was expressionless but beneath that, it held a harshness that made me feel rigid.
Although, more than anything, it made my heart hurt, it messed with my head. It undermined my confidence, or what little I had left. It made me feel cynical, it made me feel like the world shifted out from under my feet.
But, most of all, it was a trigger to those awful reminders that people would never look at me in the same way ever again - as if I was just merely a shell of the Charlotte Taken that obtained everyone's trust and respect.
After all, I existed in fragments of what I once was.
"We don't have forever, Ms. Taken. There's no point in stalling," he said, through grit teeth. Somehow, the air felt a lot more stifling, it felt claustrophobic, and I needed to get out. I nodded in response and obliged without protest. As soon as the bars were behind me, he his hands locked onto my elbow, sending a chill down my spine.
"How does it feel to be an abomination, an outcast to the only world we can really fit in?" He inquires. A callous smirk stretches across the length of his face. "It must be lonely, knowing that you won't have anyone you could truly trust."
My heart clenched - and not in the good way. I opened my mouth, but the flimsy words seemed to lodge in my throat, then dropped back to where it had came from. I almost forgot what I was about to say. Yet, was there even a point in reiterating what I had thought? Things had reached a point where my opinion was nothing but a shout into the void.
A moment of silence passes over us - which would particularly be awkward - but with a heart that thudded painfully against my chest, I couldn't care less. It was then that he said it, and the hollowness in his words makes my heart ache with a twinge of hope.
"You could kill me now, seconds before I had a chance to retaliate. And you could run away before the world catches you," he comments, scanning my face so discreetly, I thought I had imagined it. "So why don't you? Why don't you just kill me now?"
I shook my head frantically, a small sad smile playing at my lips. There was nothing remotely teasing about the glint in my eye when I spoke.
"Keep in mind that people don't have to live up to society's expectations." I watched as he became silent, as if he were rendered speechless. I knew he was listening to every word I said, drinking it all in. I wondered if my own words could ever cross the sea of pain that I'd isolated myself in, though I dismissed my questioning thoughts.
"Everyone sees me as a monster, a bomb threatening to combust at any given time. And really, it makes me wonder what it was about society that created facades for everyone, made us different people from who we really were," my smile falters, "but that doesn't mean I have to be the dangerous hybrid they think I am."
I inhaled a shaky breath and the atmosphere was unreadable, foreign. I felt his grip on me slacken and all at once, I was filled with an emotion akin to relief. Even though the secret was out; that my identity was exposed, I finally knew I had a shot at truly living if I didn't end up on the wrong side of the road again.
If I just proved my worth to them, just like I did to the guard, my desire to finally be treated normally would be fulfilled. So, I smiled and shut my eyes, ignorant to the risk of what's to come as we walked to our destination.
❧ ✶ ❧
Just as the sun hit the horizon, painting the sky into a beautiful image of reality, the guard brought me to an abandoned warehouse - where the meeting would be held. I trudged along behind him rather reluctantly, my fear slowly eating away from me. Now and then, he'd throw backward glances, just to make sure I haven't scurried off.
Though, I didn't because I needed to stand my ground, prove to the Council that I was an ally, not a threat.
"Just step ahead through the door, they should be in there by now," he informs turning to look at me. "Are you ready?"
"I don't think I'll ever be ready," I mused, eyes glued to the daunting building before me. A laugh escapes my lips, and it's a humorless, eerie. I slowly, tentatively wound my arms around myself, an indication I was much too apprehensive and nervous for my own good. "But, I guess that doesn't really matter now, does it?"
Silence ensued and I figured it was time to enter what could be the turning point in my life. Allowing my words to linger in the still air, I strode forward, feeling the heavy, intent stare of the guard's eyes burning two holes into my back until I was nothing but inches away from the door.
"Ms. Taken, wait."
The balls of my feet skid to a halt, shoulders tense.
"I'm sorry," the guard says. His voice is tinged with desperation, as if he were saying the apology while holding onto an edge of a cliff. "I misjudged you, and I'm sorry. You're nothing like they said you were."
It begins to rain, drowning the moment that engulfed us whole. My chest constricts at itself, almost at the point of it being painful. But no amount of it can surpass the pain I feel in my heart as I feel my jubilance washing away with the rain.
I froze for a moment as his words registered in my head. But I knew, from experience, that words had a habit of giving false hope. "I'm sorry, too."
Without waiting for his reply, I carried on, and it felt like there was a tidal wave pulling me to the warehouse. But, I paused, my mind entangled with thoughts of backfire and overwhelming feelings as I looked back.
He was gone. The moment was broken, gone with the wind, as was he.
Shaking my head, I berated myself for being foolish; for feeling a single ounce of surprise. People never stayed around to watch, never stayed around to watch me spiral into demise. So what was different now?
My eyebrows were knitted with worry as I pushed open the metal doors. And when I closed the doors softly behind me, I knew that I could've just walked out of my freedom right then and there. And it was exactly what I imagined it to be - ominous, with hints of light coming from the outside.
Cloth, what I had assumed were old curtains, hung from the windows and where ever there was a beam of light, dust was visible. Rugs of dry blood sat on the wooden floor, creating a stench that smothered the area's scent. I wrinkled my nose, not enjoying the particularly gruesome building so far. It did not dawn on me at first what happened here, or who had done this, and so I could merely gape in shock.
I had only taken a few steps before the wooden floor starting making a continuous creak! sound. I stopped, assuming the noise would mimic my actions.
It didn't.
It persisted, as if it were a broken record player. My blood ran cold as my hands became clammy, and I listened to the horrifying melody grow quicker, matching the pace of my own heart. I was frozen and the suspense of the upcoming chipped away from me until a hand snaked around my wrist, closing in on it.
"Ah, Charlotte, you're here." My breath caught in my throat as my eyes gazed behind me, and I could, for a fleeting second, see the terror in the Head of the Council's eyes as he realized I was free, free to tear him down and take his life away. But it vanished as soon as it appeared because he knew very well that he had leverage on me.
"Jackson," I acknowledged, my stature wary as I faced him directly. His eyes were cold and expressionless, they swept past me, through me, as if I were completely invisible.
He surveyed me, blatantly, his lips curling up further into a smirk. "You remember," he replies, faltering just a bit before regarding me with a solemn look. "As much I'd like to stay here and chat, we have more important business to discuss. Follow me."
And then, he veered me off into the direction towards a new room. I was wading dangerous waters, and Jackson was the treacherous ocean, ready to swallow me into oblivion. He suddenly stopped and I would've dived head first into his shoulder if it weren't for instinct to stay within a couple feet away from him.
We'd entered an area where there only lied a single table with chairs, a lantern, and a glass of water. My eyes skimmed across the items cautiously, before looking beyond that. The view had driven a wedge in my mind that no amount of fixing could ever rid me of the image.
They stood tall, incredible power surging through their veins as they bristled at the mere sight of me. The Council - a group formed by the most prominent originals that graced the supernatural world. And knowing all six of them had came to discuss my existence had thrown me in turmoil.
"Well, aren't you easy on the eyes," the original reaper remarked, his tone sardonic. My nails dug deep into the side of my palm as he glided closer, examining me through his black, bead-like eyes. He'd put me in the limelight, waiting for the perfect moment to push me right back out into the dark. And it'd set me off edge as I was held captive in his scrutiny.
"Quit it, Chauncey," a woman snaps, with a note of impatience. Her hair was curled into a crown as a green lace dress framed her figure, lithely, and I'd assumed she was the original fairy. "We all know you're a few centuries too old for her."
Chauncey scoffs, but his eyes dance with mirth. "Ouch."
And then we heard it - scratching, growling, hissing, and my thoughts went ablaze. Jackson was threatening to shift, to shed off his exterior appearance to become his infamous, beastly werewolf. I figured it was his way of mending the foundation among the members, making sure peace was evident.
The Council surveyed him like they'd seen it before, so often that it no longer fazed them. It frightened me, just thinking about the number of times they used violence to sort out feeble situations. Though, after all, you needed to be cruel to be kind.
"Enough," Jackson growled. "Chauncey, you know very well this meeting is important, too important to just pass over. And Theophilia, comments like those are inappropriate at a time like this."
The room was silent once more, but all stillness leached as Chauncey sniggered. "You know how this will end. She is a disgrace, a hybrid who puts our equality to shame. She must die, Jackson, and that is the only way we'll restore harmony."
I flinched, he'd said it so nonchalantly, I couldn't help but freeze. And when he casted a subtle glance towards myself, I found it difficult to breathe.
Not giving up was going to be a much harder task than I perceived it to be.
My eyes flutter close for a brief moment, until someone clicks their tongue, the light irrelevant sound making me look up. A man with a pale, drawn profile narrows his eyes at Chauncey before leaning towards my direction to speak to me.
"Ignore him, darling," he suggests, grinning as his fangs take full display. He was gorgeous in a lethal sort of way, but I barely take notice to his appearance. "My name is Derrick, and it's a pleasure to meet you. Take a seat."
Slanting a grimace at Derrick, I hesitantly follow his orders, slipping into the wooden chair as softly as possible. When I do, he slips a glass of water to me, along with a hand to shake.
I just take the water.
He sets his hand down, as the unfathomable emotions in his eyes swirl and merge into something akin to amusement. "I'm assuming you know what you are, correct?" He inquires, watching me with an expression that's nearly impossible to decipher. "You wouldn't be wearing the cloak for most of your life if you didn't."
I take a sip from the glass, accidentally swallowing an ice cube along the way. It burns the whole way down. "I know what I am," I choked.
Jackson joins in. "Did you figure it out by yourself? Or did your parents tell you?"
"My parents used to drop hints, beat around the bush and never told me directly. Eventually, I connected the dots and figured it all out," I replied, a look of unconcealed sadness flashing through my eyes. I always dreaded topics about my parents, it'd strike a raw nerve every single time.
A thoughtful look crossed Jackson's face before a woman laughs, a melody that seems almost lovely but holds a definitive crudity.
"Oh, Lucy Taken, always avoiding the bitter truth," she says, wisps of blonde hair falling in front of her face like a waterfall. Her body trembles, her pure white dress swaying at her sides. I could still hear the rain coming from outside. The water rained down in torrents, unrelenting, fast, furious, just the way my harsh words were going to be.
My mouth fell open as I bristled in indignation, but I shut it quickly.
"Really?" I retaliated slowly through grit teeth. "And how would you know?"
In my peripheral vision, I could see Jackson and Derrick exchange looks, ones that held every ounce of alarm that existed. "Stop it, Cecily, you're going overboard."
Cecily ignored him, shrugging as a smirk latched onto her face. "I was friends with her, good friends with her actually before the Super World War occurred," she explained. Then her eyes accessed me like a predator would a prey. "And may I say, she was quite the coward."
I could hardly stop myself before I saw red. When someone appointed a snarky remark towards any one of my parents, I assumed all civilities were pretty much thrown out of the window. I stood up, the impact pushing the wooden chair to the ground. And when I shot a warning glance at her, she'd gone pale.
"I could kill you," I hissed, "I can end your eternity and -"
"But you can't," she cut in. She smiled at me, in ways that I believed she was mocking me, rubbing salt onto my wound. "You're trying to get on my good side. And if you dare to step on the other side, the world will hate you so much, it would feel like you were killed."
I shake my head. "You need me."
Her eyes raked over my face before rolling her eyes. "We don't need you. We never will. People like you threaten to override our world, I mean what else would you use your powers for? You're a greedy nuisance, Ms. Taken."
The ache in my heart was inconsolable as my mouth sealed in a grim line. There were times I generally had no inhibitions, never censored what I was going to say. Everything I thought came out of my mouth, like word-vomit.
"An event is going to take place," I confessed, hastily. "It's going to be brutal, something that will affect our history forever. You're just going to have to take my word for it."
Silence descended upon the room, and within that silence was a tension brewing, something that would swallow and drown us whole. And we'll never escape the chains that bound us to the inevitable.
"What is this event you're talking about, Charlotte?" Jackson demanded.
I swallowed, saying the words as if it scorched my tongue. "Super World War II."
The Council's eyes held a fierce spark of accusation and incredulity, but soon fear prevailed over their judgments. Jackson, Derrick, Chauncey, and Theophilia exchanged looks of consternation before gazing at me with a blankness that made feel cold. Though, Cecily appeared thoroughly sick, as if she were going to puke in just a matter of time.
"You're lying," Chauncey complained, however there was a waver in his tone.
"Why would I lie about something like this?" I argued, eyebrows knit with anger. "To save myself? I am not selfish."
"Then show us your wolf, let her speak the truth," he said, seeking for anything to confirm the truth. Even when it came to his last resort. "After all, wolves never lie."
And, so, I did, I summoned my wolf. Fate was finally on my side, and I hoped that the Council would finally see my true colors, not as the hybrid who'd paint with blood. But as I explored my mind, it was an empty void, no traces of my werewolf left behind. I furrowed my eyebrows into a frown.
'Scarlett?' I called.
. . .
It was quiet, dark, forlorn. Just like I imagined my worst nightmare to be. And I began to panic, my heart thudding rapidly. I shut my eyes, closing the door to my tears. There was a way to stop crying, but there was no way to stop the pain I felt.
"What's happening?" Jackson asked, when I opened my eyes. I was sure they were devoid of life, no longer glowing radiantly. When the last original stepped up, someone I had not yet spoken to, I barely noticed, too caught up with the agony that came with the loss. I felt her hands on my temples, brown eyes boring into mine.
"Her wolf," the original witch, Millicent, started. "Her wolf is gone because of the consequences of a silver bullet. Ms. Taken did not escape her demise unscathed like we believed, after all."
My parents always warned me about enemies. When they surround you, they chip away from you, break down your defenses and try to destroy you. And at the end, you lose a part of your original self.
I try one last time.
'Scarlett?'
. . .
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Such a sad way to bring back The Angel Within but it had to be done. People need to know that no one is invincible, no matter how strong they claim to be. Everyone has a weak spot, everyone has an Achilles' Heal. And we all hate ourselves because of it.
To remind you what the Super World War & Super World War II is, it's basically the most violent battles that ever took place. An army of dark angels (led by the horrible Henry Fay) came down from the darkest roots of Heaven and began to take over the supernatural world. They raided the vampires, fairies, witches, and reapers. But the werewolves and white/good angels were the last two species left standing, and they joined together to bring the dark angels down. That's how Charlotte's parents got together. (Met as leaders, fell in love as mates.)
Henry Fay fled when his plan failed. But he still wanders around, new plans arousing in his dark mind. And no way, will he go down a second time. Though, one person could halt the evils of the world to take over, permanently. Someone none other than Charlotte Taken. She wasn't a mistake. She was a destiny.
Okay. That should be good for now.
For all those who are wondering, Trent will show up in the next chapter. I promise. And to add up to the pile of promises, I will be updating regularly until summer is over! Woo!
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Thank you everyone for waiting for this. Seriously, your support means the world to me and you all remind that writing is so much better in the end. You slap a smile on my face every single day. Not literally. Thank you. <333
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