Claire Redfield Death Island Novels & Stories

She looked toward the woods, her eyes finding Ivy’s. It was the woman from the 1890 photograph. Isabella St. Claire. She didn't look a day over twenty-five. She didn't press the button. Instead, she laid the Red Box in the snow and began to walk away, toward a waiting black helicopter that bore no crest at all. If the woman from 1890 is still alive and standing in the snow, who—or what—is currently trapped in the vault with Dante? And if the chapel hadn't exploded, did Dante step off the plate, or did he find a truth in the dark that was more terrifying than the fire?

She looked unnatural as she said, "Oh, uh, I just wanted to make her and Seraphine back off. You said Seraphine kept clinging to you, right? I was hoping Professor Lodge would talk some sense into her." That took Clifford aback. Then, he said, "Professor Lodge is dead, Clary. She died the day you sent her those taunting texts." "What? She died after reading a few messages?" Clarissa was stunned. The old bat was dead? That was wonderful news! Clifford looked at her helplessly. To him, she was kind and naive. How could she have sent such nasty messages? But at the same time, he'd seen the texts with his own eyes. He was only willing to believe that Clarissa was innocent because he loved her.

The longer you take the longer he’s stuck with us. Jack gritted his teeth as he crumbled the piece of paper in his hand. He chucked it across the room letting out an angry goan. Claire lifted her head up and went to ask what was wrong. She inhaled sharply seeing a woman on the floor in a pool of her own blood. She glanced at Jack and covered her mouth seeing the other blonde girl dead. “Jack, where are we, what the heck is going on?” She said, confused. “They have Jonah.” Jack said anger shaking through him.

"Please don't do this." I squeezed my eyes shut. "They found her." Another long silence followed. I knew exactly what she was thinking. She believed my grief had finally broken me. She thought I'd reached the point where reality and hope had become impossible to separate. "Damien," she whispered gently, "I'm coming over." "No." This time my voice carried more certainty. "I'm on my way to Memorial Hospital." There was another pause. "What?" "They found Claire." My heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. "She's alive."

Then she hit the gas and sped off. Claire stood frozen, staring at the bill fluttering in the wind. Every shred of her dignity had been crushed. She broke down sobbing. Elias died on a snowy winter morning. When he passed, only Claire was there, her face haggard and worn. His eyes remained wide open. There was no peace in them, only endless regret and resentment. His final days had been consumed by physical agony and bitter remorse. That was how his life ended. The funeral was painfully sparse. Not a single relative showed up besides Claire.

I swear my heart stopped for a second. Emilio killed Claire????

Relief flooded over me—until Claire suddenly raised her gun, barrel aimed directly at Jeffery. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Edward planned contingency for even me." Shock froze me momentarily. "Claire, no!" Jeffery bristled with rage, his eyes flashing perilously, instinctively shielding me. "You no longer have to obey Edward. He's dead." Claire shook her head slowly, pain obscuring her stern face. "Edward's power doesn't end with death. He had plans. I have no choice." "You always have a choice," I begged in desperation, terror running wild. "Claire, don't do this."

Somehow I had managed to lower my barrier and get through to Claire. “That’s good, but you don’t have to thank—” “I know what you did, you piece of shit,” she hissed into my ear. “I saw it when you opened your mind to me. You’re the reason they all died. You killed them all.” Her voice trembled, as did the rest of her. I grabbed her arm and dragged her further away “I didn’t kill anyone. They were already dead when we got here.” “No. You—”

Claire fell down, she was a chair in front of Leon, her knees felt weak. "Leon ... I guess ..." "What, Claire?" Leon asked while holding back his annoyance. "I think my mother is dead," replied Claire. Her tears broke again even though she tried to hold them back. "Don't talk nonsense!" snapped Leon as he rose to his feet. “I don't know what to think, Leon… I'm just so tired. I don't even know if I still want to live in a situation like this," replied Claire. She just wanted to be honest, even if it sounded really sad. Claire knew she shouldn't despair like this, but Claire was just a human. She wasn't Athena, nor Aphrodite, Claire was just Claire. She was tired, she wanted her quiet life as

384 Rashid was there with Hunter all this time so he knew who was there at the funeral and who wasn't. Claire was from those who neither made it to his mother's funeral in time, nor his father's. Well, he knew that she was strangled on the island because Hunter left her there when he heard that his mom was dead, so it was understandable why she wasn't there at Hunter's mom's funeral. But dad's? Rashid didn't know about that.