Cursed

Chapter Three

Where the hell is she?

Cale had been texting her all morning, not one response! not a single text back. He had no way of knowing she was okay when the women blatantly ignored his wishes for a half hourly check in. It had been too much to ask of her, clearly.

He had lost his parents– they both had. Elora had been eight years old. An eight year old girl should have never laid eyes upon what little Lor had seen that day.

"Mum, Lor said–'' the twelve year old boy stopped himself dead in his tracks. A blood trail dotting along the floor. 'Mother must have had another nosebleed' young Cale had thought to himself. It wasn't till his muddied trainers had stuck a little more to the hardware flooring that he grew weary.

The boy paused to look down at his feet.

More blood. A lot more.

"Mum?" he called out with a shaky voice.

"Dad?" He knew, even at twelve years old, that the atmosphere had not felt at all right.

Young Cale, now shaking in anticipation, reached for the brass handle on the kitchen doorway. He took a deep breath. 'It's okay, it's going to be fine, it's nothing.' it didn't matter how much he wanted to believe his own attempt at comforting himself, his gut instinct told him otherwise.

The two fully grown bodies of his parents slumped upon the white marble tiles of the kitchen floor, promising him otherwise. Their hearts ripped from their chests.

It had also been the moment Cale's fragile heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

When Elora came running into the room behind him, nearly sending him on his ass with a thud into his back; all he could hear was her soul destroying screams.

"Answer the fucking phone Elora May Greyson, or I swear to god, if you're not dead already you will be." He attempted to call her one last time before leaving yet another voicemail. He yelled out in frustration.

He had come back to her flat to check on her when she didn't reply the first few times. Come midday he took an early lunch and practically ran the lights to get her. Fear is a powerful emotion. One Cale did not cope too well with when it came to his sister.

Elora was the only person in his life that genuinely gave a damn about her, and she him. Their family wasn't the white picket fence type of family. As children, they only had each other and so it seems that had been a 'gift' bestowed upon them into adulthood too.

When their parents had died, social services had placed them with their maternal grandparents. Let's just say, with Grandad Alf's drinking habits and Nana Joanne's gambling addiction, it wasn't much of a childhood.

But how could it be?

How could things be expected to fall back into place after something so big?

They were children expected to be big and brave, expected to grow the hell up and live their lives quietly, so as not to annoy their grandparents or anyone else for that matter.

As soon as they could get out, they did. Elora had pleaded for her own space, explaining that she needed to be her own person, that I couldn't keep attempting to shelter her forever. He had to let her spread her wings and fly solo. Though Cale would always be close, always be a phone call away if and when she called.

His family had been the reason he went into the academy, that he trained and became a police officer. He needed to protect her. They only have each other. Cale had Elora and Elora only; she had her friends, too, but Rosalie was the only other person that truly mattered to Elora other than him.

A loud noise startled him, alerting his inner cop, Cale unsheathed his taser– the police department weren't allowed to carry guns here in Fairgraves. It didn't matter that it was a mad town for strange crime.

It didn't matter how many incidents had occurred in the three months he had been on the force.

"Lor, you out there?" He grabbed the biggest knife from the wooden block on the kitchen side, and headed for the fire escape– where the loud banging of racing footsteps had sounded. Somebody was on the fire escape.

Holding his taser in one hand, the kitchen knife in the other, Cale made steady pace towards the back door. He spotted the black hood first. He had been about to open up the heavy duty door and investigate when the front door swung open with a loud bang as it hit the wall behind.

"What the fuck is going on?" He dropped everything, racing to the oddly handsome stranger carrying his sister in his arms, her clothes bloodied and eyes closed. The metallic smell stinking up such a small space.

"Elora," Cale attempted to take her away from the man carrying her.

"She's fine. Injured, but she's fine. Maybe if she had listened to me in the first place, she would be walking on her own–"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"None of your gods damn business pretty boy. Talk to me with that tone again after I just saved your sister's life and I'll kill you." Cale helped Elora onto the sofa.

"Did you just threaten me? I'm a police officer. I could arrest you for such things." But Cale wouldn't. Leif knew that. Elora, who was rolling her eyes at both men, also knew that.

Because Cale would feel too grateful for the man that saved his sister's life, despite the fact that he works for the law, and Elora knew they would need to explain what happened to the police which would bring about all the questions they wanted to avoid being asked.

Questions about her attacker, questions about why, questions about Timmy Sidbrooke. Elora had no idea as to what Cale had done with his body, or how he had covered it up. 'it's for your own good.' he had told her.

She wasn't allowed to ask him about it.

'The friend." That was all she had to say for Cale to understand.

***

The stranger that had carried her home, fed her his blood and made sure that she returned safely had vanished entirely among the conversation. He just left?

Without a word more on the subject, no explanation, just a grumpy pass off.

No goodbye.

Good riddance I suppose.

The man had weirded her out– who the hell makes people drink their blood anyway? wait– no.

Oh god no.

I drank HIS blood.

***

Leif had to get away from her. Her presence only wound him up in ways he couldn't explain; not even to himself, at least not right now. He didn't have the answers to everything. It didn't matter how long he spent travelling from one corner to the next, exploring every place the world had to other and some places he went more often than the others.

Fairgraves had been one of those places.

He liked it here, it was one of the few places in the world where people like him lived peacefully. It didn't mean it was easy for them, or for Leif, but it was certainly better here than elsewhere.

The water here ran crystal clear. The trees had never appeared so green, so vividly alive.

Leif admired it.

He refused to acknowledge that for more than a second but he loved it.

He was miserable 24-7.

He had acted so incredibly foolish with the girl today.

"You fool." He scolded his reflection. The mirror was fractured in several places, the result of many meetings with his fist. Leif would be lying if he said he didn't have anger issues. He needed to be extra careful now that he had created a blood bond with her.