A Vampire's Pride

The Spirit Of The Door

Viola's POV

             The night sky is blanketed over the forest like a calm shadow, with only the twinkling of stars to illuminate. By now, the campfire had dyed down and warriors had returned to their tents, but still, I scrambled to find Claire. Having the grimoire out in the open like this was dangerous— if Varla saw, there's a chance she'd turn me into a toad. Even worse, I'd probably have to be kissed by Kilian.

         I shrug those emotions out of my mind before they can fully present themselves, knowing that I can't ignore what went down in that tent for long. I run around the muddied war camp, still hearing fire crackling in the distance. Finally, my eyes cast on Claire's golden blonde hair, as she and Atticus sit on wooden logs. She's laughing at something he whispered to her as they drink something in their tin cups. I pause for a moment, not wanting to ruin their sweet moment, and how their pinkies touch— or how she smiles adoringly at him.

         My heart aches to have something like that, something not as fucked up as the situation I was in now. Crushing on a demon that my father trapped for reasons unbeknownst to me. Wow, it sounds even more fucked when I put it that way. Not to mention, we kissed. What's next, sharing tents? Selling my soul? I push those bitter thoughts away, taking a large breath of air. The air is thick and tastes like roast and stew, still lingering from earlier.

           I put on my big girl panties and head over to where Claire and Atticus we're giving each other honeymoon eyes. Once I reach Claire and realize that they haven't even glanced my way, I plop the dusty grimoire down on their laps.

         Both of their necks snap in my direction as I give a smile in apology.

        "This is urgent. I need somewhere to speak quietly." I say, eyes flitting around the camp, cautiously.
"This information can't be out in the open." I whisper as Atticus rubs his forehead. They glance at each other, Claire biting her lip and tucking the grimoire underneath her cloak. I hadn't even realized she had one on until she lifted her bottom slightly, pulling some of the wool pale blue fabric out from underneath her. They both stand silently, linking fingers as they walk in the direction of the tents.

"We can talk at my tent." Atticus says as I linger behind them, clearing my throat.

"Is there a tent for me too, or is that like something for VIP's? Should I just sleep on a log like the rest of the bugs?" I ask hesitantly, but still sarcastic. To be fully honest, I still wasn't comfortable being my full self around Claire and Atticus. Especially around king Atticus, not after that stand off him and Kilian had in his kitchen. I'd been lingering in the shadows and holding my tongue whenever Atticus even looked my way.

Kilian would obviously never allow anyone to touch me— not that I couldn't protect myself. I just hadn't liked the idea of conflict with the man that my sister had her sights on. It seemed as if she had more than just her sights on him, they seemed like lovers.

I thought that finding my sister would be like finding a best friend, and our schedules would revolve around each other. My selfish side had taken over, and my excitement hadn't allowed me to think about what was really going on. My sister already had someone to call her best friend, someone to spend her time with. Reality was, maybe once we found dad, we'd be on our own again.

There was a sour taste in my mouth as I felt a pang of jealousy, for not having been raised with her. For not knowing Claire before Atticus snatched her away and entranced her. I blink, pushing my self conflict and selfish thoughts away.

Claire wouldn't do that. She wouldn't just dispose of me once we fixed the problem and found our father, would she? I mean, we're dealing with a freaking prophecy here. I think by the time this is over— if I don't get my mother and sister bonding time, I'll smash my head against a wall.