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   Chapter 38 Under The Blood Blizzard

The Silverskin By Rian Torr Characters: 8663

Updated: 2018-03-07 15:18


Faye smiled up at Seven so sweetly.

'I have been so very sad without you, Seven … Please say that you will finally come back to Me … Come back to French's Forest forever … Be Mine now.'

He shook his head, but only because Her words triggered memories from the woods that he did not want—not because he was not still opening up to Her allure.

But She did not realize She was still in control—and so She lost Her temper under perception of his outright rejection.

'DAMN YOU!' She screamed. 'HOW DARE YOU DENY ME!!!' She boomed―snapping him out of his short-lived illusion—and he once again steeled himself then for Her immediate execution—before it was too late. He had to do it.

He lifted Tréowlufu again—but felt it being pushed back down—and he could see in Her eyes that She was once more using Her mind to force him to do as She bid. She willed his arm to set back down.

She cackled in defiance. 'Try as you might, Seven … At best you are only ever half a man—or half a vampire … Such a pathetic excuse for an existence—such a miserable way to spend your life—always split in two. Always only half as good.

'You should have taken a lesson from Me, boy … Whatever side you choose to embrace, make it all the way—or don't go wasting your life with making it at all. Why spend existence in limbo?'

But by mounting waves of emotion―he called up his undead flare more than he had ever done before in his life. Giving himself over to his monster core―and using every ounce of will to force Tréowlufu back under his control—he pulled it up, wholly intent on beheading Her. He would not be swayed from this.

'Oh, please give me one more chance!' She pleaded, back in Her game of pity and pathos—still confident that She could cast him down with a flick of Her wicked wrist at any time—just wanting to torture him to the fullest. She wallowed.

But he was not believing it. He knew Her too well. It was just a joy to Her—to toy with his heart in this way―in order to find the most wicked final exit for him that She could. She did so, so that in the heat of his ultimate slaying―She might feast upon the most possible pain.

"You have had one chance too many already, " he said. "I delay at my peril."

'I cannot live without you, Seven …'

"How convenient then that You are already dead ..." he said—and swung fast for Her neck. He guided the blade true.

But at the last second, he pulled out—suddenly seeing an innocence buried deep in Her green eyes, which his empathy could not bear to trespass on.

It was clear to him in a flash, that if

energy, " Seven yelled above the wind, trying to comfort Eva and be brave now.

"SHE WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!!!" Marietta bellowed. "She will NOT take my last boy … Not while I am alive.""NO!!!" Seven cried. "She's too powerful! She will not make it up here, I promise! We have to just wait Her out."

But Marietta could only think about Godwin—and she no longer felt like living anyway. Godwin had been her everything.

"Take care of this one, Seven, " she said, nodding at Eva. "She must have the heart of a monster, if she loves you so."

"Please no ..." Eva begged. Aly clung to Eva now, having lost Marietta's embrace. Seven, Eva and Aly were one.

Marietta gave Seven the keys to the pick-up truck that was parked down off the drive-lane. She had thought ahead.

Seven shook his head in disapproval. He could not in his right mind leave his mother there now to die.

"Marietta ..." he began, but he could not find words that would convince her to change her mind. He knew her too well.

He felt if anyone died next, it should be him—but mothers were stubborn—and his was no less. He looked deep inside.

"It's up to you now, to carry on the blood-line, " she said to him—carefully squeezing his shoulders. "My true boy."

She closed her eyes now, breathing in deeply. After a slight repose―she recited prophecy in a strange accent:

"'Second child of undead blood, Keeper of the Crest … Half-blood born on a half-moon, never before or ever again.'"

Seven bowed his head―acquiescing to the finality of her words―nodding slowly in the grim moment. It was real.

Marietta then skinned her kitchen knife from her apron belt―and flayed one arm wide open, from her wrist to elbow.

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