Rosette found Rozelyn sitting in the living room, drinking an orange juice. She looks cozy, calm, and as if she hasn't just been interrogated at the police station.
“Care to join me for dinner?” The Thaumaturge then smiled at her.
“I just had one.”
She put down her juice and vanished in thin air.
Rosette looked around, looking wholly nervous and worried.
“Some things that you’d been looking for are just behind your back all along.”
Rosette whipped her head to the back, to where Rozelyn was standing and gri
Dorrien heard Avril call the old woman ‘Thalia’. Thalia. Such a youthful name for a woman who already had several silver strands of hair amidst its gleaming onyx color. “Ms. Thalia Turner, isn’t it?” Avril asked the old woman. “Yes, Mr. Arke. And it is my pleasure to meet you,” she greeted while extending a hand to the Irish Alpha. “And to you, Mister—” “Dorrien Ronan. His name is Dorrien Ronan, a Shapeshifter Werewolf.” It was Avril who introduced him. “Ah, a Shapeshift
It had been two days since Samhain. Still, Avril Arke and Anaztasia Arryn didn’t ceased taking chances for a kiss, sex, or both to one another. “We should find out why Romaine isn’t there,” Anaztasia said as she parted her lips first from Avril’s. “She only said she’d be late on Samhain since she has an important thing to do. I did not think she wouldn’t attend our most important festival at all,” Avril replied as he gasped for breath then leaned to Anaztasia for more of her lips. “So do I,” she said as he was about to kiss. He halted. “
“What is your kind again?” “Winnowers,” Laara replied while accepting the pudding that Rozelyn gave. “Which means?” Rozelyn continued squeezing for answers. “Folks of the Wind.” It was Thalia Turner who answered. The rest nodded in discernment. But Rozelyn Zadzisai was hungry for more answers, curious for what else the folks of her nanny could do. Yet, she couldn’t pass through any of their mental defenses. It seems they have an amulet of sorts. ‘A Thaumaturge has limitations then…
“Was that a bomb?” Anaztasia asked. “I think so,” Romaine said as she put her glass of passion fruit juice down. Rozelyn doesn;t know how many glasses of that juice her stepmother had consumed. ‘She only drinks a lot of juice when she’s nervous.’ She thought. Rozelyn decided to peer into Romaine's mind when she remembered about Laara and Isla. Rozelyn’s speculation became wilder. She had once glanced in Avril’s mind that Romaine was an accomplice. But, the question is, accomplice to whom? And why would she do that? Why would her stepmother do that? Why would Romaine betray the coven that had sheltered her ever since she ran away from her home in Romania?&nb
“You must be Rozelyn?” A male voice interrupted Rozelyn between her cries. She paused and wiped her face clean as if to show she wasn’t crying. The voice seems to come from her father but more calm and…belonging to a living. “It’s okay. You do not need to hide your cries. Feeling sad is normal. Even Mother Nature cries sometimes through the form of rain…” Rozelyn debated if she was going to turn around or not. Most probably not as the inspiring words were like her father’s words of wisdom. “May I sit beside you?” The voice asked in a polite manner. The hair on her skin began to stand; she was having goosebumps and was thinkin
It had been days since the apartment explosion and the departure of the mother and daughter she met at the orchard that were actually healers. Not the modern definition of healers. But the ‘supernatural’ meaning of healers. Some say they are witches but a lot different than that of heathens or blood witches. But these folks, the folks of Laara and Isla and Thalia, preferred to be called healers as it was more ‘pleasant’ to hear than being called a witch. Well, Romaine supposed they do have a point then. For in the 21st century times, there may be no mob to burn a witch at stake but people will glare at you and gossip about you, marking you as a ‘devil-worshipper’ and subtly ostracizing you.That’s th
Dorrien saw her do it. In fact, he had seen her the very moment she lifted Hans Ryder from the ground with just one hand. He does not question that because Romaine is a vampire in the first place.But the fact that Romaine wasn’t wise enough to take a peek at Han’s mind if he was really the real one or just a duplicate of the real Hans Ryder is a dumb move...and an advantage for Dorrien. Dorrien can’t still get over the fact that Romaine is a double agent. He doesn’t know why or how or since when. Yet, she prompted him to play this game of secrets and hidden agendas with him. And so he will do it; play it as Dorrien likes. But Dorrien’s move now&mdas
“Are you still bothered by the explosion a few days ago?” Thalia Turner asked Rozelyn as the old lady placed a bunch of almond cookies and a teapot of English breakfast tea on the living room table. “Yes.” She answered. “The sound of it was definitely deafening and haunting.” Thalia grinned. “You should get used to it. For the next centuries of your immortal life, you should be used to hearing explosions and the likes of it.” “I know, dear Thalia.” She poured Rozelyn tea on her cup carefully and with precise manner.&n