Haunting Memories, Pt. 3

Collab with Azrael 

Inferna's POV

I close my hands into fists to hide their shaking. So many questions… and fears rattle through my brain. If he knows who I am, he must know… NO! No, he can’t!! It’s not possible… I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, while Azrael puts the man under his compulsion. My gaze does a quick survey of my surroundings. Fortunately, nothing else seems amiss. The two men take a seat, and I give Azrael a halfhearted smile as he rests his hand on the small of my back. My gaze flits back to the stranger across from me. “So, tell me. Who’s this Anneliese to you, and why do you think I’m her?” I take a sip of my drink, trying to act relaxed. “She’s the daughter of the founding family of Bludhaven. You look exactly like her portrait, but it was 300 years ago when she went missing. You can’t possibly be her.” “Hmmm, well obviously they can’t be the same person,” Azrael chimes in. “What else do you know? Better yet, how?” I demand, unable to bite back the sharpness of my voice. If he knows this information, then so could others, and that is not something I can allow. I try to rein in the overwhelming desire to kill him right then and there. “I read it in a book. I’m a historian, and I used to work for the current Baron. They have an extensive library. The book details the founding of the Barony up to the untimely demise of the family line.” My lips thin at his words. A book?! Dammit! Why can’t the past just stay buried?! “What does this book say about Anneliese’s disappearance?” I urge him to tell me all he knows. “It says that she was last seen with the son of a Duke in this very inn…” My blood runs cold. T-this was the inn? It looks so different… The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, imagining my sire Luther lying in wait in the shadows. He’s dead. He’s dead, Inferna. I try to remind myself. “That very same night, the young man was found in one of these rooms with his throat ripped out and disemboweled. But Anneliese was nowhere to be seen,” the man continues. “Well that is an interesting tale there, sir. Does it say who wrote this book?” Azrael inquires. “It gets stranger though. A few weeks after that Anneliese’s family were massacred, every last one of them had their throats ripped out and were completely drained of blood…” “I’ve heard enough,” I cut him off. I dig through my satchel and pull out a few coins. I casually slide the coins over to the man, as my mesmerizing eyes capture his attention. “Rent a room. We will follow in behind you shortly,” I command, putting him under my compulsion. He obediently leaves the table with the coins in hand.  I take a big swig of my drink. If only alcohol affected me, because I could sure use it right now. With my heightened senses, I listen in as the man rents a room. Once he’s sent on his way, I gesture to Azrael to follow me.  “Very impressive, My Queen. I wonder what you would have me do if your skill worked on me.” My cold, distant gaze slides over to Azrael. “I compulsed the god of death once or twice. It lasted just long enough to get the truth from him,” I say matter of factly, glancing around to make sure no one is watching us. I close the door behind us and take in the room with a sweep of my gaze.

. . . 

Gooseflesh rises as his hands run up and down my body. Even through layers of fabric, he can light me afire. Our bodies molded to each other, I pour my feverish need into our kiss, savoring the taste of him. We pull at each other’s clothes, eager to be rid of any and all separation between us… The door suddenly flies open, causing us to scramble away from each other. An unfamiliar man strides in, the picture of poise and sophistication. With long sandy blonde hair and dark fathomless eyes, I’ll never forget his face, or the predatory look in his gaze as he locks the door behind him.  Before we can hardly react, he surges across the room in a blur. One second he was by the door, and the next he has my love by the throat. His gaze turns to me, and I’m mesmerized by the way his eyes seem to pulsate.  “No matter what you see, you will stay put, remain quiet, and watch. Am I understood?” His voice is like silk to my ears, and I nod my head, even as my brain screams in protest. I feel like I’m trapped inside a body that is no longer my own. To my horror, his eyes turn crimson, black veins bleeding down from them, and as his lips pull up into a wicked grin, I see two pointed canines.  He whips around, his fangs plunging into my love’s throat. A warm spray of blood hits me in the face as he jerks his head back, ripping open the delicate skin. I try to scream, but it doesn’t reach my lips. There’s a glint of steel in the dim light, and a sickening crunch, as a dagger is drug through ribs, bowels slipping out of the opened cavity. My stomach rolls at the mangled corpse of what was once my true love. I want to look away. I want to close my eyes and pretend this is all just a dream, but I’m stuck in place. A tear slides down my cheek as this monster of a man turns back to me. He wipes the blood off my face with a handkerchief, his gentleness unnerving given what he had just done. “Now now, there’s no need to cry. He only held you back from your true potential, but I will make a queen of you yet. You will be the bane of every man’s existence, the true daughter of hell.”  And with that, he took my hand and led me out of the inn, my feet following him not of my own volition.

. . .

My stomach rolls at the vivid memory. I shake my head, my gaze refocusing on the man before me. “You know too much. I will give you the small mercy of making your death quicker than theirs were.” I zip forward and snap his neck. His body crumples to the ground at my feet. I let out a shuddering breath and look to Azrael, my eyes full of emotional turmoil. “Can you get us out of here, please?”  Approaching me, he wipes a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb, before entwining his fingers with mine. “Your wish is my command.”  I wrap my arms around his neck, my tears wetting his shirt. If there’s one thing I learned over the centuries, it’s that no amount of time will ever truly erase the pain of loss.

. . .

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