AN//: Merry Christmas my lovelies and i hope you all have an amazing start to the new year! 

Been a busy month with work and getting things sorted for the festivities and I'm actually currently in Chicago Illinois with my boyfriend visiting his family! In a couple of days we'll be heading to Hawaii for New Year and I'm so unbelievably excited to see somewhere new and so beautiful. 

The New Year is going to bring some fun things as well as some long awaited ones. 

So if you're here thank you! And I can't wait to see you again next year. 

Enjoy the chapter xx 

Bonnie got up from the bed she had been sleeping in and turned on the side lamp, rubbing her hands across her eyes. She tapped her phone and looked at the numbers that flashed on the screen.

01:11 AM

She'd barely been asleep two hours, yet she'd had the same dream again.

Just like the last time, it wove through her consciousness and whispered things to her she didn't understand. It tugged at her thoughts, her worries, her ideas. It unravelled them until they were string, and then bound them together in knots that her fingers couldn't separate.

It was becoming infuriating.

With a groan, she made her way to the door, knowing that her heart was beating too fast for sleep and if she lay staring at the ceiling, she was going to go insane.

It creaked open, and the small light in the hall provided enough for her to see down the stairs. She listened for signs of life, but there were none.

They'd got back in the evening, after a train journey filled with bad television and not much conversation. Gremory had pulled out his phone and ordered Bonnie to watch reality tv with him—stating that watching humans like zoo animals was incredibly entertaining. She'd accepted, and while Kimaris had shaken his head at the two of them and turned to a book in his hands, she saw him watching from the corner of his eye when he thought no one was looking.

It had been nice. Doing something so simple was a relief and staring blankly at a screen gave her time to think about other things without the boys noticing.

Like the feeling she couldn't shake—that something was wrong.

Maybe it was her. She still felt singed by the harsh words Gremory had said to her the night before. After all, a scorned woman was meant to be the most dangerous, no? That could be all it was, just lingering emotions and human nature making her question their smiles and friendly laughter.

But she could see it in their eyes. Questions that they didn't want her to answer, and words they didn't want to speak. They had made it clear with Eyael that they didn't think she needed to know much, Gremory had said so himself, so was she being totally blind?

Was she walking around with her head in the clouds, stopping herself from seeing the truth?

It was an odd feeling. To want to trust so much but feel as though she shouldn't. She didn't know why the feeling had started, or what she could do to stop it. But it was slowly clawing itself through her body with every minute that passed. Like uncertainty had been dripped into her bloodstream.

Even when they'd shown her the room that she could sleep in, she still felt strange. It was a beautiful room; with a large mirror and wardrobe on one side, and a painting of a forest that hung beside the bayed window on the other. It felt warm, and safe. And as Gremory waved a hand over it, she could see how happy he was that she was staying for the night.

But he didn't tell her everything.

There were rings on the wood above the bed, as if something had been hanging there and the sun had bleached the area around it. Dust on the table wasn't totally uniform; a hand had been swiped over but pieces shone through completely clean, marks of something previously there.

When she'd opened the closet, she'd expected to see clothes hanging, but it was completely empty, apart from two wooden boxes at the bottom that had heavy, thick metal locks on them.

Things they didn't want her to see.

It's what made her hesitate now. She had the idea to go downstairs, maybe find a glass of something to soothe her worries, or a snack to fill the hole gnawing at her insides. But when she stepped out into the hall, the books lining the walls changed her mind.

Watching below the doors for any sign of light, she creeped across the wood, her fingertips running along spines that were older than she could comprehend. It was tiresome waiting to be told things, especially when she knew half of the answers wouldn't be full. Yet here she had all the information she could ever want, and she'd walked past them as though they were merely decoration.

The wind whistled outside as she skimmed the shelves, hoping her breath wasn't loud enough to hear.

The History of Egyptian Gods

Talismans and Totems of the Deities

The Sacred Whores of Babylon

Bonnie stopped, rereading the title.

The book was thick, bound in a material that she was almost afraid to touch in case it crumbled. But the letters were large and elegant, a scripture style that looped over itself and danced through the words, pulling her eyes in their movement.

Her fingertips reached out, tracing the design with bated breath. As she pulled it from the shelf, she froze, half expecting an alarm to blare or a hand to grab her wrist.

But the book settled into her arms and the only noise was of her feet as she took a step back towards the bedroom, the weight of the pages making her move slowly. She used her other hand to steady the other book to the side of it, letting it softly lean instead of fall, careful to cover the space as best as she could.

How odd it felt to sneak around. It reminded her of the days from her childhood when the adults bedroom was out of bounds yet the best supplies were hidden in the drawers.

She planned to only take the one book, but as she went to leave the hallway, a familiar title made her take a second. Luckily it wasn't so heavy, and the shelf it was on was in more disarray than the others. They wouldn't notice it gone, not if she was speedy.

As she piled them on top of one another, and ducked through the doorway, a noise from behind made her eyes widen.

Quickly, she threw the books onto the bed and yanked the duvet over them, grateful for the plush material. She'd have liked to spend another second checking it looked okay, but the creak of a door made her bolt back to her open one. She tried to look relaxed as a figure appeared in the hall, his curious eyes finding her immediately.

"Bonnie? Everything okay?" Gremory asked, rubbing his face as he stuck his head out, looking down the dark corridor.

"Yeah!" Bonnie answered, clearing her throat when her pitch was one octave too high. "Just couldn't sleep."

Gremory nodded, running a hand through his tussled hair as he pushed his door open wider.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She nodded quickly. Purposefully keeping her eyes from glancing to the bed, she shut the door behind her and crossed the hallway, her nerves dampening with every step. She prayed his sleep filled expression meant he wouldn't notice too much.

He softly smiled as she followed him into the bedroom. Thoughts of her dreams dwindled as she took in the elegant design of his ceiling and the paintings adorning the walls.

"Wow," she whispered, following the trails of candlelight that danced up the dark oak of his bed and spread over the canopy hanging from it. "It's beautiful in here."

It was hard to say what her favourite thing was. The curved patterns on the eaves reminded her of an old Victorian mansion, stories etched in the details that she most likely wouldn't be able to figure out. The forest green curtains were long and stretched over the curved window on one wall, like the trees that had sprouted high above them the previous day.

But there was something warm about it; whether it was the orange glow reflecting off of the gold lace weaved in all the materials, or the delicate way everything seemed to glitter, she felt safe in here. Cozy even. As though this place was solace, protecting her from the things outside its walls.

"Thank you," Gremory replied quietly, running a hand along the edge of the fireplace that he stood beside. "I've always found peace in here."

It was easy to see that. She watched him, wondering if she had ever seen him look so at ease as he sunk down onto the bed, only now noticing the thick robe encasing him. When his eyes swung back to her, she moved her own onto the paintings on the wall, slowly walking to them with a pace that tried to calm her heartbeat.

If he asked what was bothering her, what would she say? Worry seeped in.

Then she stopped in front of a large painting. She had seen nothing quite like it, and for a moment she thought they had lined it with fairy dust to shine how it did. It was of two people, in what looked like a hovel of sorts. Light streamed in from one side and the colours swirled, following the lines of their bodies which dove in between one another, wrapped so tightly that there was barely any space between them. At their feet lay what looked like a small guitar, and the gold trail of it ran up the leg of one silhouette and wound around their waists.

Bonnie looked over the figures again, taking in the sharp tilt of one's jaw and the way their foreheads touched at the peak.

"This is you, isn't it?"

Gremory's sad smile made her throat close, and she knew exactly who the other person was.

The faces weren't very clear, but she could feel their connection as though it bled through the paint. She could imagine their eyes watching one another, their lips brushing with promises whispered in the dark. It pulled at her chest and clung to her lungs, suffocating her in longing.

"Its beautiful."

Gremory leaned forward, his eyes glassy and unblinking as let the memories of the two of them fill his head.

"It was always my favourite. Amdusias thought the background wasn't regal enough, but I find comfort in its simplicity."

Bonnie nodded, trying to piece together the bits of the puzzle, but she struggled.

"It seems like it's quite old."

"It is."

Perhaps she didn't need to talk about her own problems.

"Can you tell me about it?"

He blinked, and she could see how grateful he was for her to ask. She wondered how long it had been since he could talk about Amdusias to someone—someone who hadn't been there or didn't know their history already.

He nodded, and she walked quietly over to him, situating herself at his feet as they both peered up at the painting, the silence of night waiting for him to speak.

"It was from a time when things weren't so divided in the realms, when people on differing sides of the fight could still know one another, before we began to be banished and hunted. One muse, Brigid, painted it for us. We'd found this small, abandoned cottage on the outskirts of the borders that we'd meet in, it was the only place where I could be in this form and feel truly safe. She came and painted us right before the divide began. We didn't know what it was, but we could feel something coming, and she wanted a way for us to have the memory forever."

"I've heard of the muses," Bonnie replied softly, "But Brigid... I don't think I've ever heard of her."

"That's not surprising," he almost laughed with a sigh. "Compared to the others, she was certainly the quietest and least provocative of them all. Unfortunately, legends do not favour the meek and kind. You may be familiar with one of her forms however—Athena."

Bonnie felt her lips part and Gremory smiled at her awe.

"I thought so. It's a little complicated but simply the muses were nine sisters who were all connected to one another, when one died, their soul split within the other siblings, living on through them. When they had all died but one, the deity that was left called themselves Athena. She was the cumulation of their spirits."

It was hard to separate the ideas that Bonnie knew from pop culture, with the truth that an actual daemon was telling her. How fascinated would the rest of humanity be if they knew that their folklore and stories were actually within one another in a way that no one had ever pieced together?

"But before that she was merely Brigid; a girl who loved to read poetry and could create paintings that captured emotions, keeping them forever contained within a canvas to be looked at repeatedly. Her heart filled with only purity. She wanted nothing more than for each of us to find love and happiness within one another. Thats what the thing hanging above it is—Brigid's cross, it brings protection all year round."

Bonnie followed his eyes, finding the woven pieces of what looked like long grass almost hanging from the ceiling.

"It looks familiar," she replied, trying to figure where she recognised the diamond design from.

"It has some similarities to the christian cross, like all things they tried to cover the true meaning to fit with their stories of Jesus and God. But it's also one symbol of Ireland, used exactly for that reason, to establish themselves as separate from Britain and take back some of their history. It used to be woven by families and put up on the first day of Spring to be protected for the year, but certain changes to the design of houses made it difficult, and they dwindled in use. Although, they're still hung at Glastonbury I believe."

Bonnie snapped her fingers, eyes lighting as she remembered seeing them littering the fences of the festival.

"That's where I've seen them, although I think they may have been hanging the other way around."

"A common mistake. Yet more influence by particular groups. Traditionally they're hung like a saltire, not a christian cross. You'd be surprised by how close to the truth old legends were before religion changed them to fit a narrative."

"Like Irish mythology?" Bonnie asked, almost ashamed that she knew barely anything about it.

"Irish, Scottish, Greek, Egyptian—they're all connected whether or not they know it, but time has pulled the histories further from the truth."

"Wow," Bonnie mumbled, her voice shaking slightly. "There really is so much we don't know."

She could feel Gremory as he turned to look at her, assessing the way she had become enthralled with his words, and slightly scared too. Every time she learned more, she wondered if she should stop. With every door that opened, a thousand new ones appeared and became locked, and she was becoming concerned that she'd never have enough answers.

"Is that what's keeping you up, bonny Bonnie? The unknown?"

The question sat on her shoulders, spread evenly across the two. She wished one felt heavier, perhaps then she'd know whether to speak the truth. But it remained equally balanced, her internal compass giving no indication of which path to take.

"Yes," she whispered finally, unable to look at him, fearing he'd see the thoughts behind her eyes. "I'm afraid that I've gone down a path where knowing too much could make me lose myself, and not knowing enough will drive me crazy. I already thought the world was so big, but now it's incomprehensible. Especially when I've spent so long in a bubble of my making."

And I still think there is more being kept from me.

Digging her fingers into her palms she kept her breath even as Gremory put a hand on her back, his kind eyes struggling over what to say. She glanced at him, noticing the lines deepening across his skin.

"I'm sorry that you never really got the choice to know these things," Gremory began, a hesitancy to his words that she frowned at. "But, although cliche, I know everything happens for a reason, and fates are written in the stars. They're just pretty hard to read most of the time."

She wanted to ask how she could know hers. To know if all her pain, her loneliness, was for something greater than herself, but fear stopped her. Would she truly want to know her future? What if it there was no getting better, what if the future only held darkness for her? How could she possibly go on?

Instead, she turned back to the painting, casting her eyes over every glorious detail.

"The head touch," she pointed out, remembering how Gremory had done a similar thing with Eyael. "Why do you do it?"

Although this moment seemed far more intimate than the one the two men had shared down at the water, she knew it had to be important. Otherwise Kimaris wouldn't have objected to partaking in it.

"It's a symbol of trust and vulnerability, something only shared between those with a close bond," Gremory explained quietly, as though afraid someone would overhear them. "It began so long ago that I don't even know the origin, but for beings of a higher power, many of them could share feelings or memories with a touch. It allowed them to speak without words, or be comforted with not even a syllable. Over time, it became a way to show openness and love. Between family and friends, a short touch expresses enough to know that you feel safe in their presence, that you will allow them to connect with you, even for the briefest of moments. Those with the strongest kinds of bonds would hold it for longer. And for those that you humans call soulmates..."

He looked up at the painting.

"The embrace could last long enough for someone to paint a picture."

And here Bonnie thought their story couldn't get more heartbreaking.

"You did it with Eyael," she commented, steering the conversation from the sad topic that was making Gremory's eyes well. It appeared to work as he blinked and turned away from the mural, a gentle smile on his lips.

"I did. He's truly like an older brother to me. I have no reason to mistrust him, not really."

"But Kimaris does?"

Her words made the warmth slip from his expression as he inhaled deeply, but his body remained unmoving. His eyes flickered to the wall that Kimaris' bedroom sat beyond, and Bonnie quickly realised that she'd struck a topic that she perhaps wasn't meant to.

"Kimaris' mistrust is not only reserved for Eyael," Gremory spoke slowly, careful with his words. "I would have been shocked if he had greeted him in the same way I did."

Annoyance returned to her chest as she listened to his clipped tone, stopping words that might tell her too much.

"So, he's just this way with everyone then?" Bonnie scoffed under her breath. "Good to know it's not just me being a human, at least that's a little comforting."

Gremory shifted uncomfortably.

"If you must know, I haven't witnessed him do it since... well the last Age I suppose."

"Does he just keep it for himself in the mirror then?"

She expected Gremory to at least half smile at her bitterly toned joke, but his expression made her swallow any more words.

"I know it's hard to understand, but he has good reason for being the way he is."

The hairs on the back of her neck rose at his words, a chill in them warning her not to ask.

"And are you going to tell me them? Is he?" She waited for Gremory to reply, but he only pressed his lips together. "That's what I thought, more silence. It seems like I got the short stick with daemons on that front."

He made a move as though to respond but sounds from the room beside them halted him. After a few moments a knock echoed from the wood of Gremory's door. As it pushed open they both sat up, and when Kimaris' face poked through, his eyes crinkled in confusion as he spotted Bonnie.

"Grem I—oh. I didn't realise you were in here." His voice fell flat as he spoke and Bonnie couldn't help but feel hurt at the change in tone. "Everything okay?"

"Yep," she replied, her cheeks pulling with a tight smile. "Just peachy."

"We couldn't sleep," Gremory added, shooting her a look.

Kimaris' brows furrowed, but he shrugged his shoulders none the less and pushed the door open wider, stepping into the room.

"I see. Well, I need to talk to you about something," he said, but didn't continue. A moment passed. "Alone."

A sound of acceptance left Bonnie's mouth as she stood up from the bed, ignoring Gremory's kind eyes which were begging her to understand. She clicked her tongue once and clapped her hands together as she spoke.

"Well, this has been lovely Gremory. Let me know when we can do it again on a night that isn't VIP only."

The words tasted bitter in her mouth, and as she glimpsed at the painting, she almost took it back. But with one look at Kimaris, that urge vanished.

"It's not something—"

She held up her hands, cutting off the dark-haired man.

"If you're about to say it's not something I need to know, then please, don't bother."

If it was possible, Kimaris grew taller at her frosty tone. His face becoming dark as he folded his arms.

"Fine. But we won't be here for the morning tomorrow. Just so you know."

"Fabulous," she countered, copy his stance. "I'm not even going to bother asking where you're going."

"Good, because I wouldn't tell you."

"Good, because I don't want to know."

If blood could boil, both of theirs would have been flaming hot. The steam from it billowed into their eyes and blinded them to honest words. She didn't dare blink, determined to appear as uncaring and stoic as she could. She stared into his eyes, the hard steel reflecting the same emotions she had. The stubbornness. The refusal to yield. There was a heat in her chest that made her want to scream, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I'll let you know when we'll be back," Gremory tried, breaking the silence and their locked glares.

"Don't bother," she replied, ripping her gaze away and throwing one last look behind her. "Have a great time."

With a push, she shoved past Kimaris and stormed down the hall, slamming her door behind her when she'd entered the bedroom again. It may have been a little childish, but it was equally cathartic.

Afterwards, she lent against the door, her fists squeezed together as she mouthed words she hadn't spoken, feeling the frustration flood through her in a tidal wave that touched the tips of her toes.

It was truly like trying to break through a brick wall with only her hands. Even when she thought she had successfully carved a way through, another layer waited for her on the other side. She had never felt so alone and powerless.

For a brief second she almost stormed back over to them, demanding to know where they were going. But as she turned, she saw the lump on the bed, and remembered what was underneath it.

Carefully, she walked over and lifted it gently, almost cautious to what was waiting for her.

The two books lay there, somewhat out of place amongst the modern bedding but calling to her to reach for them. Her hand glided over the first, eager to digest the information that had been dripped to her in tiny pieces. Tales of woman with the power to change the course of fate.

But then she touched the second one, and resolve settled in her.

The two men across the hall had been clear in warning her about things she didn't understand, and they'd made it their mission to only divulge what they believed necessary. And that was their choice, one she respected and wouldn't push.

She lifted the book, reading the title twice to make sure she had the correct one.

John Dee's Enochian Tables and Angel Magick

It was perfectly okay if they didn't want to explain things to her, because she had a funny feeling that someone else did.

And she had a couple of hours to kill tomorrow, anyway.

What better way to fill them than having a chat with Manakel.