Chapter 85 A Clue
Chapter 85 A Clue
\[Tabitha’s POV\]
“....vaga…”
“Eve…line…”
The words drift in and out of the darkness that surrounds me while the smell of smoke reaches my nose, threatening to gag me. Soon, the sound of wood splintering and glass shattering reaches me, along with the feel of hands on my arm shaking me with so much force that it is impossible to stay in the comfortable darkness.
Gasping, my eyes fly open, and I find myself staring up into two bottomless pools of darkness, but instead of being scared, I feel nothing but comfort.
“Evangaline!” The owner of the eyes is a woman whose face resembles mine so much. “You have to get out of here!”
“But mama,” the words leave my lips on their own, and I realize that this isn’t a dream. It had to be one of Evangaline’s memories, but what exactly was she remembering? “What is happening?"
“The hunters!” The woman, Evangaline’s mother, responds. “Now come. You have to get out of here.”
“But what about you and papa?”
“We will come after you.”
As she speaks, she pulls Evangaline from the floor and begins to drag her across what I realize is a small cabin, and when we reach the fireplace, she pushes her inside.
“Go. Get out of here!”
For a moment, Evangaline doesn’t move as she takes in the house that is quickly going up in flames. It is only when the door bursts open and many men dressed in red and black uniforms come rushing forward that she begins to clamber up the chimney.
With each inch she climbs, the sound of fighting grows softer and softer until finally it disappears when she bursts out onto the roof. Sucking in a few breaths, she looks around until she spots a tree, and then, not wasting any time, she starts to climb, using the trees around her as a way to travel above the chaos that is happening below.
It is only when she finally gets far enough away to feel safe that she stops and starts to suck in deep breaths so that the fall air mixed with smoke fills her screaming lungs. And when she has finally gotten her fill, she turns her gaze in the direction of her home, which is now fully up in flames.
“Mama,” she whispers, hugging her knees against herself. “You must survive.”
My heart breaks as the words leave the child's lips, but before I can see whether or not her mother kept her word, the world around me shifts and changes until I find myself in an alley and I’m staring down at Evangaline’s tiny little hands, which hold a dead rat.
It doesn’t take long for her to bring the creature to her lips so that she can drink its blood, but that simply isn’t enough, and she is getting up and moving. She makes her way through the streets of a strange town that she doesn’t recognize until she finds a woman whose eyes fill with pity when she sees her.
“You poor thing,” the woman murmurs, kneeling and brushing some hair from Evangaline’s face. “Where are your parents?”
“Dead.”
The single word makes a wave of despair and suffocating pain shoot through her, but she quickly buries it before she can be consumed by the grief that is still so fresh.
“Oh, sweetie,” the woman whispers, pulling Evangaline to her. “Then come with me.”
After that, the scene shifts again, this time to a sunny kitchen, where the same woman who comforted Evangaline cooks while Evangaline watches. And like that, scenes continue to form flashes of Evangaline’s memories, from the good to the bad.
At first, there are people around her, and it seems as though she truly is happy, but as they go, those people grow older, and then they disappear from her life. When I can only assume it all becomes too much for her, she starts to be alone, at least until the day she met Titus. However, even then, she is on her guard and scared to let anyone in until she makes him like her.
From the few memories after, it looks as if they truly are happy, but soon the distance between them can be felt until Titus appears with a woman by his side. She is heavy with child, and it is easy to tell that he made her one of them.
The pain that Evangaline feels after that is so fucking unbearable, and when we reach the day she was killed for being accused of killing the child that Titus’ mistress carried, so much relief floods through me that I feel like the burden being lifted is my own.
All of these memories give me an idea of what Evangaline had to have felt as a member of the undead, but the one memory that mattered the most never appears, and when my eyes finally open, I find that I’m myself and I’m surrounded by Vance and Atticus.
“Hey,” I whisper, trying to remember exactly how I got here. “What’s…”
“Careful,” Vance warns as I attempt to sit up. “Slowly.”
“I’m fine,” I huff. “But what exactly happened here?”
As I speak, I look around the room, taking in the shattered furniture and the blood that covers the floor. It is only when my gaze comes to rest on a very disgruntled and battered August that I begin to understand.
“So who beat the shit out of him?” I giggle.
“Atticus,” Vance admits, though it looks like it pains him to say it. “That fairy is pretty scary when he’s mad.”
“Don’t call me a fairy,” Atticus warns.
“Sure,” Vance sighs. “If it will help with your ego.”
Remaining silent, I block out the twos arguing, which begins due to Vance’s jabs, while the memories that I saw play themselves again and again in my mind. However, no matter how often I see them, I don’t come up with answers. At least, not to the questions that I have.
“Oi,” I call, fixing my gaze on August. “If you don’t want me to cut your fucking dick off, you better tell me everything you know about this end that is coming.”
There he was. The only person who could answer all of the questions that I had. If he didn’t want to speak, I would make him.
“Do your worst,” he chuckles, giving me a look of defiance. “I do not fear death.”
“Death isn’t what you should fear,” I giggle. “I don’t plan on killing you, but I wonder if you’ll still be that fucking cocky if I turn your dick into spaghetti.”
Beside me, Vance lets out a puff that I’m almost positive is laughter, and it catches me by surprise. But as I turn to meet his gaze, he looks away, covering his mouth so that I can’t see whether or not I was right.
“I could just turn him into a popsicle and shatter his fingers, toes, and limbs one by one,” Atticus offers.
“Oh, I’d like to see that." I grin. “Go on then.”
Growing quiet, I wait as Atticus takes me in with an unreadable expression, and when he finally nods and gets up, I feel like maybe we are slowly going back to how we were.
“You heard the lady,” Atticus says, kneeling in front of August. “Either you give us answers or I’ll make your death long and painful. What do you say?"