Ember of the Underworld

3.

"Hell is empty,

and all the devils are here." [William Shakespeare]

Koralina's hands shook as she slid her fingers over her ruined dress, failing to smooth out the ripped edges. Sheathing the blade inside of his jacket, the stranger reached down, grasping her hand in his, and helped her up. She stood uneasily, trembling. With his hands steady on her upper arms, he held her upright until he was sure she was fine to stand on her own. Koralina sucked in a shaky breath. "What was that?"

The stranger didn't say a word, his lips set in a hard line. Koralina wondered if he was trying to read her mind. Perhaps he could.

His breath was visible in the crisp air and she felt herself shiver. Her shoulders were bare and a breeze filtered through the tears in the skirt of her dress. She could feel his heavy gaze on her and quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

Koralina's mind replayed the last five minutes in a never ending reel. It was a haze of shadow, fangs, blood, and the stranger wielding a sword.

Her heart hammered inside of her chest, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

Breathing erratically, her words came out in pants. "A wolf. . . It had red eyes an—and fangs." Her head swam with impossible explanations, and her skin felt like ice. "I—"

Koralina stopped abruptly as the stranger removed his jacket, and put it on her shoulders. The heat instantly began to warm her cool skin and breathing came easier. His jaw clenched as he watched her tremble. Looking around, at the front of the Manor, he drew in a breath. His eyes raked over the entire courtyard before settling back on Koralina who looked as if at any moment she would collapse.

The stranger's face was oddly blank, as he took in their current situation. Koralina expected him to spring to action, but there was a pause in his movements as if he had no clue what was to occur next. It was clear his plan of rescue had not reached the step of what to do after the fact.

"Oh God," Koralina sobbed, her hand clasped over her mouth. "It killed him."

Tears filled her eyes as she felt her legs wobble beneath her. "I—I killed him."

The stranger's eyes widened, reaching out to catch her against his chest as her legs gave out.

Twining his arm around her waist he hauled her against his side and began to walk her away from the grassy yard, to sit on the front steps of the Manor. Stepping off the curb and onto the bricked driveway, he felt Koralina tremble into his side. He bit his lip. Setting her down onto the third step, he bent down in front of her, and with a steady hand tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"You didn't kill him."

Koralina tilted her head up, tears stained on her cheeks. "I did. It's my fault," she looked down at her lap, wiping tears off with the back of her hand, "If only I'd just stayed at the party. I shouldn't have called for a cab this far out—I should have known—"

"What just happened, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known what was going to happen." He assured her.

"And you did?"

He didn't answer her question. "You're safe now."

Koralina wanted to trust that, more than anything, but . . .

"Wait here. Don't move," The stranger instructed, rising to his feet.

The stranger left, and Koralina felt her mind lull as she watched his retreating form.

The man—Howard. Howard Wright has a granddaughter. He's a cab driver. . .

Is life that easy to take?