Margo has never been one to use a cuss word. Trained to be prim and proper, she has never said a cuss word. But seeing Freya heading toward the shadow warriors who were more than eager to meet this beauty who wasn’t afraid of them, hearing what Freya had said, she said ‘Fuck!’
She cursed right before she hurried after Freya, right before she threw a bout of lightning to the shadow warriors to slow them down. A few of the warriors fell, but they rose up again, unscathed, and joined their comrades who were steadily covering the distance between them and Freya. It didn’t do much, but Margo was already with Freya.
She held the redhead by the shoulder, and turned the latter to herself.
“Fuck!!!”
This was muttered this time around with a striking vehemence, accentuated by the speed with which she staggered away from Freya.
What the hell! Margo mentally screamed, perusing the girl that was one of the chosen ones.
The latter’s eyes were dancing flames. Smoke puffed from her nostrils and ears, as if there was liquid fire inside her.
Her hands, now that Margo took notice, was crackling with energy waves switching between blue and green.
What had she awakened? Margo thought, as Freya gazed at her blankly, regretting her curiosity to see the makeup of the girl. She should have called her out when she had perceived that the latter had honed enough energy. Now, this could go the wrong way, especially if the magic ran out of her control. They were doomed, that is.
When Margo suddenly felt her eyes burning, felt the skin around them shrinking and peeling in pain, she quickly looked away, knowing that looking at Freya’s eyes had been the cause of her pain-it was like looking at the sun, daring to come closer to the sun.
When Margo felt her body burn, she knew it was time to leave.
Submission? She didn’t know how the girl would do it, but seeing the determination fanning in those twin orbs of fire, she knew that the latter would do it.
“Deal with them without mercy. Do you hear me? Bring them into submission, or kill them! I don’t care! Just make them regret ever tampering with you, with your family, and with your home.” Margo enunciated with steel.
She watched as Freya smiled, saw the twin teeth at each side that had elongated to fangs, and knew that the redhead was no longer a human, or even a supernatural being.
Ancients and vampires had two fangs alone, these were four. What was she? A mini god? And she had only a slice of the tattoo?
Margo couldn’t imagine what Emma was capable of, what darkness was about to break out in the world if the gods had to disperse this arsenal in human vessels.
“I will, master. Get the others to safety. Things ’bout to get messy.”
There was the southern twang that the girl had when she was going for humor. Margo was glad that she still had it in such a state. It will help center her.
Meanwhile, she nodded, and then using her magic, hurried to the other side, leaving the unearthly creatures in the hands of an unearthly being.
When Nathan saw Margo running away, leaving his daughter, his anger threatened to override his judgment, until Kane who was beside him muttered: “The gods help us. What is that?”
Nathan looked then, and noticed the anomaly that was his daughter. Right now, just as Margo had left, she had taken to the air, propelled by a blue luminous flame that tethered under her feet. She flew as a rocket would, into the midst of the shadow warriors. The warriors, who seemed surprised, an emotion never to be seen in the faces of such creatures.
Nathan’s heart snuck into his stomach. What was Freya doing? He made to move toward her, but Margo shouted after him, after them. “Get back! You egocentric old men!!”
Nathan turned, surprised at being called that by a witch. “What’s going on with her?”
“She promised to put them under submission. Seems she wants to have them as her servants. They will be needed to fight their brothers.” Margo answered, pointing at the chaos around them. “She instructed that we take care of the werewolves, heal those who are wounded, and put out the fire on the houses.”
Kane piqued an eyebrow, already moving toward a burning house. “Instructed?”
Margo nodded. “She is no longer the Freya we know. She is at the moment….”
Margo didn’t know the best word that will fit the description of what she had seen, of the aura she had seen circulating Freya, of the depths of power she had seen in the latter’s eyes, of the otherworldly scent the latter now carried, reserved solely for beings that didn’t walk the earth.
“god. She is like a god now.” Nathan muttered, in a contemplative mood.
Margo nodded her agreement again. “You know it makes me wonder what Legardo is about to unleash with his stupid idea of colonizing the world, what level of darkness he is about to let loose. If the gods had sent these arsenals into human vessels, I just wonder…”
Kane shook his head. He wondered too. Especially the first redhead-Emma; the one that had intercepted his mindpath without ever meeting him, without ever knowing him. Only a god could do that. He hoped they will all live to tell the story to the incoming generations. Till then, he moved with the others to do the work which a god had sent them to.
Meanwhile, Freya stood in the middle of the shadow warriors, laughing.
She saw the hesitation on the side of the shadow warriors; unbelief represented itself in a harder laughter-she never thought that these creatures had feelings. As a matter of fact, in the books she had read, they were portrayed as beings that had no capacity to feel emotions, even when killing. They were worse than vampires in that regard. At least the vampires felt a thrill whilst killing.
But she saw them hesitating. Could it be that they have sensed a higher power?
“Gufank sulaijhi.” She spoke, not knowing what language was that, but knowing that it meant that the shadow warriors should come to her.
When the shadow warriors looked at themselves, however, and made no move to come to her, instead they fell to their knees, she knew they had understood her, and that she had just spoken their language.
The victory wasn’t entirely sweet. She wanted to fight. She wanted to expend her power.
And so, without thinking much of it, choosing to expend some amount of her boiling anger, she pointed her index finger to a shadow warrior. Without a word, the warrior fell to the ground, writhed for some seconds and became still.
Freya cackled in satisfaction, and then released a bout of fire to one third of the fifty, laughing when they burnt to ashes.
Fikan. The flames on her hands. Fikan. Fire peculiar to the gods, alone. Fire fiery than hades. The knowing rang true in her mind.
She was just about to continue the demolitions of the others, forgetting her earlier plan to place them into submissions, seeing as the shadow warriors still remained on their knees, without making a movement, even with their comrades dying, when suddenly her mind path crackled with information. “It was a trap.”
The flames on and in Freya died down instantly, when she heard the voice in her mind. So, commanding the shadow warriors to become dust of the earth, remaining so until she called for them again, she turned around immediately and sought for her father with her eyes frantically.
The second group that had been sent to the Faugers pack had been sent to their death, had been sent to a trap.
***
“So, you are telling me that while Amelia had been with Emma, she had been keeping tabs on the girl for her master? How had she become a child of the household? Daniel, didn’t you tell me that Amelia was a born child of Mr Jackson? What’s this I’m hearing about an adoption? Were you so interested in your personal pleasures, that you had forgotten to do a more proper research?” Queen Zipfarah after swimming in her incredulity, asked Daniel in a tone that could be likened to a shout.
Damon shifted uncomfortably on his seat, next to his brother. It had been a while since his grandmother had employed that tone of voice.
Daniel, himself, was lost for words. Amelia. How could he have known? She had no scent! She was just like Emma! No scent at all! How was he know to that she was supernatural? How was he to conduct an investigation without suspicions?
However, he said nothing to his grandmother. He rather bowed his head in shame, and dwelt in his thoughts.
“Gentle, my Queen. He is still a child.”
Zipfarah shook her head. “A child at eighteen? I trusted him with a job, and he couldn’t do it! I should have waited for Damon to come back!”
She relaxed into her throne and palmed her forehead, not reasoning the seed of discord she had just sown in Daniel’s heart, who had always been placed second to his brother, even though they were twins.
Yes, Damon seemed more powerful than him, but still… Daniel would appreciate it if it wasn’t thrown to his face at every turn. Was that what happened to his Aunt Leonarya? Maybe he should…
‘Burn that thought to the ashes. Don’t dare ruminate on it, Daniel. The Queen can get strong headed sometimes, but don’t let it determine your life’s course. Damon loves you, sees you as an equal, and that is all that matters.”
Daniel jerked, unable to control himself, as he heard Prescott’s voice in their private mind path. His jerk, however, attracted the attention of the people in the room.
“What did he say?” Zipfarah questioned without a preamble, knowing that Prescott was the only being they had a mind path with. Witches don’t use mind paths.