Thirty-Eight

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We'd moved between games a dozen times now. Drinks had been downed and spilt all the same. I'd grown a liking to Pool Boy, he and I had an understanding.

I tell him to do things and he listens.

Drink woman was a tad bit boring as she only offered me conversation when presenting me with drinks i had asked for. I had yet to gift her any personality anyway. So she had no choice but to be a bore.

"Do you remember what i said earlier PB? About quiet little bars?" I ask leaning over a booth table where we had sat ourselves.

"It's easy to keep an eye on people." He states confidently as i nod in agreement. 

"My reasons for hating Ohio vary. Though a main factor remains the fact that it is crawling with werewolves." I enlighten as he scans the room.

"Werewolves who are so easily tempted and controlled by their royals." I slyly look to the front door, where a man had sat staring at his menu for far to long.

"I didn't want to be followed here, especially not by my brothers minions." He takes my words like holy grail, sauntering off to fix my newest problem. I had expected Kyrin to have tabs on me but so soon?

Pool Boy didn't have the spunk i did.

He would kill the man to eliminate the problem. I'd burn the bar to send a message and so as Pb stalked off i headed the opposite direction. 

I entered the back kitchen, where mediocre food was made for the masses. The cooks swiftly look up but last no longer then a second as my black smoke spirals out, suffocating them where they stand. 

Each suck in breath they can not find before being fully lulled into my trap.

They each turn to what i was telling them to do.

The gas line is disconnected and oil is trailed out of the kitchen. I follow the building trail as wisps of black tendrils flow from my palms, i form a long spear like blade as i catch the people raising from their seats with uncertainty. 

Screams tear from terrified hearts as people begin to rush up.

Two kitchen staff have boarded the doors entrapping those within. The fire sparks behind me as a flame is lit. 

I move forward smoothly as the rising dead move to enact my bidding. As more die the more my army builds, on and on until screams have fallen to a dullest caress. 

I slip my hands into my pockets as i walk towards the main doors, the staff opens them for me as i prowl out stopping to call over my shoulder.

"PB!" A man emerges from the choking smoke as the doors close behind him.

I'm delighted to find him slightly unscathed, only the clothing on his back charred.

The other girl can remain inside, there are many more just as dull as she was. 

My hands are cold despite their sanctuary within my pockets and i find myself hating the chill. The fire bites at my back after a moment, allowing me seconds to relish in its warmth before a shrill young voice catches my attention. 

"The stories do not disappoint." I turn swiftly, the sight of a literal child catching my attention.

"Your going to pretend you never saw me or i'm going to cut off your head." I bite uncaring of his age.

"There's no need for violence, im friend not foe." I tilt my head in disbelief. He had an aura about him, a witch. Possibly no more then 16.

"I don't care. I'm on vacation, leave me alone." The kid throws his head back with a whine.

"But I've come so far to find an Ashire." I stop completely from my decent of the stairs to my car.

"What ever for? Don't you know only trouble follows the name." He nods swiftly.

"Yup, i know. I knew from like? Age 7. Trouble in school. Then again when i turned 11 and started lighting things ablaze with my mind. Age 12 i burned my school to the ground, can't remember why. My dad always blamed my blood. My mom blamed my dad. Who cares they are both dead now." He shrugs as i look at him nonchalantly. 

"And i need to know this because?"  I deadpan.

"Because im the last living Ashire, descendant of your brother Kyrin. And im totally broke and need funding from your immortal person money." I scoff at him.

"My brother bore no children." The kid rolls his eyes in return.

"Your brother held one heir from a woman named Hestia Morello. Who died of natural disease after giving birth to a boy named Killian. He sired many children , most of whom were barren due to his mothers poor health, therefor his in turn." The kid explains lowly as i shake my head.

I recalled Hestia well, a natural beauty from a small village. One that was not renowned for its medicine only its small petite grace. She had been mortal and utterly in love with Kyrin, after all they were soulmates. 

They were forced to separate due to Ezra. Who's devilish intent had sparked at the time. Kyrin had left to return our brother to sense. It had taken a year to hunt him down and set him back on the right path. Despite all his efforts to keep the world golden and pure, the gods repaid him by taking his mate. 

He had tried to pull her soul and body together but the witches upon the other side would not allow it as Kyrin was the one keeping them dead.

"So i'm to believe a witch was produced from a wolfen line?" I ask as he nods.

"It's not improbable that a witch and wolf hooked up along the way and if the gene was dormant for many generations it would be easy for the witch gene to take over." I bring my hand to my nose in irritation and annoyance.

A day of no interruption only to have the biggest bombshell dropped on me. 

I turn in annoyance, lashing out at the person in closest vicinity. 

Pb drops without his head.

"Now look what you have made me do! I liked this one, he was co-operative." I mewl turning back to the kid.

"Tell me your name then, i don't wish to spend eternity in suspense." He slips down from where he had been slouching. Boyish mannerisms moving him to attempt swagger as he buffs up his collar. 

"I'm Able. Able Ashire." I snicker lightly.

"Got a brother called Kane by any chance?" I muse as he shakes his head.

"Haven't heard that one before." My laughing stops.

"Hears the deal. You laugh at my jokes or i don't give you money." Imeadialty he perks up, faking laughter very dramatically. Doubling over and losing breath. 

"Now that you mention it the joke never does get old does it?" He continues to chuckle, even going as far to wipe fake tears from under his eyes. 

"That's much better." 

In The Eye of Her Storm // Klaus MikaelsonWhere stories live. Discover now