Chapter 6 Just the beginning
“That might actually mean something, if I knew who you were,” she snorted, squeezing her blade in her hand, knowing her life depended on it.
Her words were meant to insult him, but she saw no such emotion on his face. She just saw emptiness behind that hollow grin, like a mask.
“All good things come to those who wait, Goldilocks,” he teased her. “And, while I’m really having fun here, I’m afraid I can’t stick around for much longer. Those you can keep as my gift to you.”
Izabella watched with awe as he transformed into a raven and flew away, leaving the bodies of his clan members for her to do with as she pleased. As most of them were still alive, she got the wooden stakes out of Brandon’s backpack, and struck them through each of their hearts. When she was done, she realized that the little kid was still hiding behind a big dumpster and he’d witnessed everything.
She could see the fear in his eyes, the disbelief, the little snots dripping out of his nose in thin strips and him totally unable to move a muscle. His little innocent life was over and, now, he was a man, stuck in a child’s body.
“Shit, kid…” she raked her fingers through her hair, as she spoke to him. “Come here.”
The child didn’t move. He sank even further into the darkness, behind the dumpster.
He was petrified of her, of them.
“Come here, I won’t hurt you,” she told him softly.
She wasn’t used to this kind of talk, but she knew she’d never forgive herself if she just disappeared and left this kid in this pool of vampire blood. This time, the boy believed her words. There was something in her voice that made her tame even the wildest of beasts. She outstretched her hand, making sure to pocket her blade before doing so. The boy walked over to her, dragging his bare, bloodied feet.
“Here,” she sat down on the ground and started messing about with her sneakers.
Now, she was on the same level as him and it made him more trusting. He got
closer. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was too busy taking off her sneakers and socks. Then, she put them right next to his feet.
“They might be a size too big but even that’s better than being barefoot.”
The kid looked at the sneakers, then at her. There was a quizzical look on his face.
“Yeah, I know that the socks are purple with hearts,” she smiled. “Sorry about that.”
A second later, he grabbed the socks and the sneakers, and was about to put them
on.
“Wait,” she urged him, grabbing a bottle of water from Brandon’s backpack and a handkerchief.
She poured the water on his feet and wiped them carefully with the handkerchief. His feet weren’t squeaky clean when she was finished, but it was much better than before.
“There, now try them on,” she told him.
The kid did as he was told. He sat down on the ground as he put on the socks, then the sneakers. He got up, then eyed his feet, which were bare no more. There was a wide grin on his face, which lit up as he walked around, then jumped a few times.
“Good, huh?” she asked, and he nodded. “Well, alright then.”
She got up and walked over to him. The smile disappeared from his face, as her hand rested on his greasy hair, shuffling it a little.
“Next time, think twice whose side you’re going to take, alright?” she asked.
He nodded again, even quicker than before. She pulled her hand away and he shuddered, as if she was about to hit him. She had no idea who he was or where he came from but seeing him like this made her sad. She wanted to help him, to do more than just give him her sneakers but she couldn’t do anything right now. She had too much on her plate.
“Stay safe, kid,” she waved at him, sat on Brandon’s bike and felt the harsh rubbery plastic on her bare feet.
She needed to go home and get ready. This was just the beginning.
About a month later, Izabella reached the small Romanian village of Rasinari. It was one of those place with barely a thousand people and everyone knew everyone, so any new face was looked upon with a mixture of distrust and curiosity. To her annoyance, no one spoke any English but when she mentioned the name Zeadore, people would look at her in fear, start crossing themselves and take out their rosaries to pray. That told her more than any English speaking person could.
Finally, she reached a small inn and there was a man who was supposed to take her up to the mountains with his small carriage. When she asked him why he didn’t meet her in the village square upon her arrival, as it was agreed, he just shrugged his shoulders, and spoke in broken English.
“I need drink first.”
Izabella rolled her eyes, as she adjusted her heavy backpack. She hated the fact that she was in an unknown country without anyone to watch her back but she believed Emile was telling her the truth. Her gut told her he was to be trusted and her gut was usually right. The coachman offered no help with her backpack, so she just kept walking after him towards the village square, which was where she’d just come from. She was sweaty and annoyed, the worst possible combination when someone’s traveling.
She got into a carriage drawn by two horses and, immediately, felt like she was transported back a century or two. When she saw the condition of the roads and the high, winding paths that led even higher up the mountain, she realized that there was no way a
car could ever go through here.