Chapter 12

I stare Draven down. He has absolutely no right to look so cocky and smug. His hands are in his pockets as he leans back. He looks smooth and dangerous.

Just because I can, just because it makes me feel a spark of some semblance of feeling, I slap him.

"Do you have any idea what you are even talking about?"

He voice is calm and light. All these mind games simply make me tired, "Eulus O'Quinn's death was indeed a murder and his last prophecy was indeed concealed from the Aucliacs ."

I rub my temples, wanting to be finished with him and get to my business with tormenting Charlotte Night and her stuck up self. "Even if this is true, why should I give a shot about some outdated prophecy?"

At this he looks slightly exasperated, as if f he has the power in this conversation, "I believe it has something to do with this war."

"This war will happen. No prophecy will even our odds or help us now."

He persists, "what about his unnatural death? It must mean he was working on something important."

"That's speculation and frankly, I don't have time for this right now."

I stalk off down the halls, the perfect picture of angered. The truth is, I can't be bothered with this. When this war is over, I'm gone. I want out of this life and it's not like anyone wants me here anyways. If I were to have a reason to endure this life of lies and sinister games, maybe I would be able to put up with it.

What I truly want is go to New Orleans on earth six, stay in my estate that overlooks the water. I want to be able to have dinner in the garden district and perhaps even make friends with the local witch covens.

Perhaps I could find happiness there.

I let the daydream float in my mind. Maybe I would be able to own a small cafe filled with greenery and life. I almost smile at this. I can feel no self wanting this, wanting peace.

My life has always been so fast track. It was the first getting married at fourteen, who the Hells thought that was a good idea? Then is was the Varkeshian kidnapping and Cassandra. Then the whole Hell and Lucifer dealio. After that came the every-one-in-the-fam phase.

I brush my hand against marble walls, dragging my fingers slightly. Such beauty hiding such wicked sin.

On any other day I would go to the Flame and seek it's guidance, but it is my belief that the flame has forsaken me and Varsillia. Why should I pray to something so trivial as a flame, anyway?

As I walk I at last enter the Night wing of Moonstone. As a child I had always loved these walls best. Whereas the rest of the palace is just solid marble walls, the Night wing has black stones and stone dust ingrained into the walls. These had been Irenes favorite rooms to visitor and play in once upon a time.

As I a enter one of the rooms, the door only squeaking ever so slightly.

The moment I step foot in the threshold I hear a height pitched voice ring out, "Whats got you so worked up?" I glance at the woman who had just spoken and she immediately continues with heavy sarcasm, "my queen."

I smile. It's a pretty little thing designed to charm and kill just the same, "nothing at all," I pout my lips in a childlike manor, "I just need someone to take a stab at. You happen to be here."

She looks somewhat afraid, but manages to keep both composure and wit, "of course. I'm always here. Eternally the entertainment." Her voice is bitter and I can't halo but smirk. I made someone else feel.

"Charlotte Night," I nod my head at her in false respect, just as she had done when she said 'my queen'.

I twist a knife in my fingers, looping it through. Thinking about all the ways to kill someone. The arteries, a snapped neck, a ripped out spine, decapitation, drowning, burning to death, electrocution, poison. So many options. I smile. It is wicked and it is a reflection of the twisted, mangled up darkness inside of me.

I point the knife at her. The gesture says I could kill you right now. I wouldn't even blink. I could hurt you in ways you can't even imagine, but I won't. I want you to sit here and slowly become a shell of yourself. I want you hollow and thoroughly destroyed by the time I end you. I want your pain to be slow creeping.

She gulps and tire stores look me in my eyes, but she can't hold my gaze as I stare her down to her nose. From head to toe I assess her. She can feel my eyes looking her up and down.

"You look different Char."

Her throat bobs as tears rise up her eyes, "don't call me that, you bastard."

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