Daughters of Creation

Chapter Five: Sidereal (Part Two)

October 13

Vela's mouth felt like the desert, dry and gritty and in desperate need of water. Slobber dripped onto her face, startling her wide awake. That was not the type of hydration she had in mind. Shoving Dakota off, the hell hound barking in protest, she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, stretching. Her hangover was gone and she had succeeded in getting Andre's annoyingly husky voice pushed to the far corners of her mind.

A scream split the air.

"Son of a bitch!" a disgruntled shout followed.

Vela leapt from the bed, snagged her glasses, flung open her door and flew into the hallway. Bumping into Dana, the two of them made their way to the kitchen: where the scream of murder had came from.

"What is it?" Emrie Michele jumped from the couch, book brandished in front of her like a weapon. "Who's yelling this early in the morning."

Vela squinted, still half-asleep. "Emerson?"

The witch in question spun around, finger raised in accusation. "You! Did you bring this—this dog back with you?" Bright, burning white light emanated around Emerson and Vela knew the witch's energy magic had flared at her sudden surge of emotions.

She scoffed. "Yes, Emers, I brought a dog home in the time I had between walking back to the apartment with all of you and falling asleep still a little buzzed with Dakota pinning me to the bed. I definitely had time to bring a dog home."

Emerson's finger dropped, but she refused to calm down. "Then explain how a freaking dog got into the apartment?"

"Who the fuck just screamed bloody murder?" a thunderous voice demanded behind them.

Vela spun on her heels, shivers clawing down her back. Not good. Not good at all. Emrie Michele quickly abandoned her book and couch to slowly approach Rosalyn.

"What's wrong, love?" she held her hands up tentatively, knowing a pissed off witch was worse than a pissed off vampire— and Rosalyn was definitely a pissed off witch.

"I nearly fuckin' blew this place to bits!"

"What were you working on that could be so dangerous? Especially with us in the building!" Emrie Michele's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as her eyes widened incredulously.

Rosalyn's face didn't soften, if anything her eyes grew harder; like two shards of emeralds or unforgiving pools of jade. "Something that will help us— now is not the time for me to explaining myself —why hasn't anyone told me what the hell the scream was all about?"

Vela didn't think it could get any worse.

The dog barked.

Rosalyn locked on to the dog. Emrie Michele gave up entirely; her arms falling back to her side, eyes darting to the ceiling for help, and abandonment of care causing her shoulders to slump.

Vela slid across the kitchen floor, throwing her arms around the dog, and clamping her hand over the dog's muzzle.

"Shut up, you moron!" she hissed, glaring at the dog. "You're about to become the bone you chew on."

The dog merely stared at her, as if saying "That tiny thing? Turn me into a bone, yeah right!" and wagged his tail. Emerson made the smart decision of sewing her lips shut as Millicent edged out of site, taking Dana with her. Whatever Rosalyn had been working on must be serious if she was this furious about possibly screwing up, and if she was this mad then her anger was well placed because she rarely—on two occasions before hand—ever became this angry.