He didn’t know how to feel about his father. Many people despised him and wanted nothing to do with him. He was pretty much the ultimate villain and Ethan wondered how someone would carry that on their shoulders, being the spawn of something so dark and despised.
“Do you miss him?” Ethan asked. Preston looked up, his eyes teary and red.
“Every day,” Preston smiled at him. “He was like a brother to me.” Ethan could see that even though his father was ruthless, black hearted, and a murderer, some still cared for him.
“What did he look like?” Ethan began twisting his fingers. He did this when he grew nervous or wanted to cry. Emotions rocked within him, tearing at his heart like a jagged razor blade. Why was he getting so emotional? He never got like this in front of anyone, not even Emma.
“You look just like him, son.”
“I don’t remember what he looks like. Why don’t I remember, Mr. Corwin?” Ethan fell to pieces within seconds. “I don’t even remember if I loved him or not!” He cried into his hands, his throat tightening up.
Preston made his way around the table and took Ethan into his arms. Ethan leaned his head into the man’s chest and cried even harder. He didn’t care if he looked weak in front of Adam’s father. Now wasn’t the time to act tough.
“I wish I had a photo to show you. But it all was taken from me when the council found out that your father died. They wanted no trace of him left in Elsmere. But my guess as to why you can’t remember is because Mason more than likely took the memories of him from you and Emma. But Ethan, you loved him. I can tell you still care somehow, because you would not be crying if you didn’t.”
“All I have left is my sister. I can’t lose anyone else,” Ethan said as he cleaned his face of the tears with the sleeve of his sweater.
“I was around when you were younger. Of course you don’t remember me, but you have me and my son. And we are not about to let anything happen to you. For so long, we thought you were dead. I was literally floored when I heard you were still alive. And if you ever just need some closure, the cemetery is only a few minutes from my house and your parents are buried there. It will always be there if you need it.”
“Thank you, for everything.” Ethan leaned into his chest once again before deflating back into his chair.
“But enough with the waterworks, let’s get on to other things,” Preston said as he walked over to the kitchen window, breaking through the green veil, causing it to vanish into thin air. He pulled the dark curtains aside and stared into the night. “Just our luck, there is a fog front. It looks like you’ll be leaving in the morning. There is no way you’ll find Oleandra in this mess.”
“That’s why I called Sage. She should be here in a few minutes.” Adam entered the kitchen, smiling. His father whirled around, his eyebrows contorted in anger.
“The next time you disobey me, I’ll strip you of your powers for an entire month.” Preston glared at his son. Adam’s smile collapsed and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, clearly nervous. “Excuse me for the night, boys. I will see you in the morning.” Preston smiled at Ethan but ignored his son as he marched down the hallway, disappearing into the darkness.
Ethan arose from the table and headed for a lone couch in the living room. He could tell that Adam was staring at him and he wondered if he noticed his puffy, red eyes.
Adam took the chair in front of the couch and waved a hand over the fireplace. Fire roared to life and lit both of their faces in a mustard colored glow.
Ethan had been limited to using only a small amount of magic in the house. If Mason caught either of them using their power for sheer laziness, he’d reverse the spell and make them do it as a mortal would. Seeing magic utilized gave Ethan great pleasure. But he missed Mason. He hoped that he was okay, wherever he was.
Adam turned to Ethan, catching his eyes and staring directly into them.
“You’ve been crying. He told you about my mother?” Adam said.
“He told me more about my father. But what happened to your mother?” Ethan swayed the subject, he wasn’t sure he should be talking about what he and Preston had spoken about.
And now, he was interested to know what happened to Mrs. Corwin. Why wasn’t she present? Had something horrible happened to her too? Adam looked as if he were probably told not to talk about his mother, but he looked at Ethan and something in him caved.
“She died while giving birth to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said. Ethan knew the feeling of losing a mother. Maybe, Ethan thought that was one of the things that were bringing them closer to each other. They both had lost something that damaged them incredibly and they saw that in each other.
The fire sparked insanely, popping and making a high pitched whistling sound as the fire began changing its color. Magenta colored flames were now licking at the edges of the fireplace. Ethan scrambled up from the couch, nearly tripping over the wooden tea table that separated him and Adam.
The room went dark for a moment, silence reigning. After a long moment of stillness, the flames reignited and a dark figure appeared in front of the fireplace.
The flames morphed back to their original state as the room grew instantly brighter and a tall girl turned to face Ethan and Adam. She had pixie cut dark hair and she was just as tall as Emma.
“My God, it is really you.” The girl advanced toward Ethan, her voice light and gentle, almost hypnotic. She had dark brown skin and her eyes looked almost gold in the firelight.
Her thinly plucked eyebrows were clustered in the middle of her large forehead, making her look a little nervous, and her upturned nose and sucked in cheeks gave her more of a posh look.
“It’s him,” Adam said as he walked over to the two. Ethan had never seen the girl before, but he presumed it was Sage, Adam’s friend.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe this. I’m Sage Holland,” the girl grabbed Ethan’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Everyone thought you and your sister were dead.”
“So I’ve been told,” Ethan smiled.
“It is nice seeing that you are alive,” Sage beamed and turned to Adam. “Are we leaving now? I don’t want your dad to see me. I don’t like to be around when he’s pissed.” She laughed softly and snatched a shard of peanut brittle from the purple dish on the tea table.
Sage quickly crunched it down, swallowing hard as she smiled at Ethan again. Ethan figured she must have been severely nervous from the way she was eating.
“My father wants us to wait until morning. If it were up to me, we’d leave now, screw the fog. But I know he’s set some sort of alarm charm and if we try to leave now, it will go off and I’ll be screwed. So, let’s just stay in the living room and wait it all out.” Adam slammed himself back into the chair, sighing in defeat. Sage collapsed to the ground, her legs fixed Indian style as she devoured more peanut brittle.
The three had conversed about their powers, their families, and their own lives as the late night set in, cool wind rushing in from beneath the wooden door and rustling through the window curtains.
Adam had eventually fallen asleep, snoring like a beast in the chair. Ethan didn’t wake him; he knew he needed the rest. For a long while, Ethan admired the living room and how retro it looked.
The house must have been built back in the late 1700s and updated over time. Its log beamed ceiling gave off a forest cabin feel and the furniture must have been kept preserved since it looked ripped right out of the 70s, with pea green hints in each piece and salmon tinted throw pillows. There wasn’t a television or electronic device in sight.
Sage hadn’t spoken since Adam detoured into slumber, and now she sat, fidgeting with a vintage looking crossword puzzle book, softly cursing when she messed up.
Ethan gathered himself and walked over to the living room window, his arms wrapped around him like a large scarf. Even his sweater wasn’t keeping the cold at bay. He peeled the red curtains aside and peered through the frosty glass. Along with the
fog, snow fell in flurries, twirling within the air like drunken fairies.
Through some of the fog and snow, he could see houses, more like stone shacks, lining the gray bricked street. Elsmere looked to be more of an old town than a city.
Dark windows gazed back into Ethan’s eyes seemingly staring into his soul. The houses looked dilapidated and grim, and streetlamps garnished the street, lit by gas. What was wrong with electricity in Elsmere? Ethan wondered.
The town reminded him of an animated movie he saw when he was younger, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. And for a moment, Ethan seemed to be waiting for the headless horseman to come plowing through the street, with a fire doused pumpkin in hand.
Just then, the curtains snapped shut, snipping at Ethan’s cold fingers.
“Don’t do that, someone will see you.” Ethan turned and found Sage staring at him. She had a nervous look on her face.
“Why does this town look like it’s stuck in a time warp?” Ethan asked. Sage snickered and patted the couch Ethan had just occupied.
“Sit down. It’s an odd story,” Sage said as Ethan obeyed her and took his seat once again, bringing his legs up and folding them beneath him.
He liked her for some reason, and often it took him a while to become comfortable around strangers, but she was different. It felt as if Emma were here with him somehow.
“Back in the 1600s, the council made it a law to keep all homes the way they were when built. Additions could be added along the years, but if you made any outside renovations or any extreme inside changes, you’d be fined and evicted.
“Eviction in Elsmere results in homelessness and being homeless here is terrible. You’re better off dead. I don’t know why the council has a giant row boat oar up their asses but it’s just the way it has always been. I suppose it’s a tradition this world likes to keep.
“Now, as for the electricity, you can have it, it’s just pined for a lot in Elsmere because it’s expensive to have and it just doesn’t work well in our world.” Sage nodded to the fireplace.
“That is the living room’s source of entertainment. Adam and his father live in South Elsmere, which is more kind to the underprivileged. People get crazy around here. It’s safe during the day… but at night you’d be smart to stay away from your windows because of vamps, and put salt and cinnamon at the bottom of your front doors to keep the Moroi away.” Ethan tensed as the mention of the Moroi.
He had read plenty about them and got the chills just thinking about them. Moroi were ghostly figures that rise from the grave and feast on the living for their energy. Once fully energized, they become demons and could cause mayhem wherever they pleased.
“So if you are thinking of moving here, don’t.” Sage laughed, tossed a small chunk of brittle in her mouth.
“Thanks for the advice,” Ethan said.
“You’re a dark blood, aren’t you?” The words caught Ethan off guard and he tensed.
“I have dark blood but I haven’t—”
“-But you will. I can sense it. Just like I did with my sister,” Sage said, slowly scooting away from Ethan.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Sage.”
“Sorry, but I’m just taking precautions. It took me a long time to trust Preston and Adam. I just have had bad experiences with dark bloods.” Sage stopped midway to Adam. He didn’t stir, not even a smidge as the two spoke.
“I understand, I guess.” Ethan felt uncomfortable now. He didn’t like that she was scared of him; it made his stomach feel strange and gave him an immediate headache.
“My sister, her name is Petra. She is two years older than me and we used to be as close as twins. But my mother had dark blood, even though she didn’t embrace it, it was still her blood. So when we were born, we inherited dark magic. I chose to stay who I was… so did Petra… until something just snapped inside of her.”
“I’m pretty certain it was when a vampire ripped her favorite horse’s head off. On her eighteenth birthday, she let the dark have her. After that day, two years ago, I lost her. She tried to kill me and then she just… vanished.”
“Where did she go?” Ethan asked.
“She joined Craven and his villain squad and turned on everything she knew. She’s an outlaw now, and she’s wanted by the council. In addition to her capture, she is supposed to be executed after she is recovered. My sister… you… stop yourself now before you become my sister, Ethan. Otherwise, you’ll lose everything… and you will never ever get it back.”
9
Ethan couldn’t sleep. All he could think about all night until dawn was Sage’s story about Petra. It was eating at him, searing through his brain like acid. It would not leave his head.
Sage had tears in her eyes as she spoke about Petra, and when she plead to Ethan to stay good, her eyes glistened with sorrow filled mist.
He couldn’t force himself to give up his dark blood, but he would try his best to keep it under, like Bennett had told him to. It was either keep it under… or become his father.
Ethan was hidden behind the curtains of the living room window, watching as the grayish sun bled unto Adam’s street. A wooden sign hung from a streetlamp, with the word Oberon scrawled in a white ink across the plank of elder wood. Ethan figured it was Adam’s street name and mentally stored it just in case.
An old man dressed in rags shuffled slowly up the street, appearing out from the snow and faint fog. The fog hadn’t fully cleared, but it was clear enough to venture through. Chills cascaded down Ethan’s spine. He attempted to pull himself away from the window, but the man turned and caught Ethan’s eye.
Lanky brown skin on his face hung in bulgy lumps, half concealed by a tattered red scarf and a large mustard tinted parka. He was pulling a medium sized gray cart and as the man neared, Ethan saw that the cart was full to the rim with dead cats. Ethan was about to scream, but was cut off by a freezing hand covering his mouth.
“Don’t scream.” It was Adam’s voice. “You’ll wake up half of the street.” Ethan nodded and Adam released his hand from his mouth.
“What is he doing with those cats?” Ethan whispered.
“They are familiars. When a witch dies and has a familiar, the familiar dies with them. Cats are most common as familiars but he’s probably taken care of the other animals already. Craven has killed a lot of witches, Ethan. And more will die unless we figure out a way to destroy him.” Ethan thought of all the witches who had died and the familiars who passed along with them.
The families that the witches lost and the friends who would never get to see them again. It was too painful to think about and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that it was his fault.
“This is all because of me and Emma.” Tears rushed from his eyes and his throat began tightening. Adam turned him around, grabbed him by his chin, and stared into his eyes.
“Don’t ever blame yourself for this. It’s not because of you. This is all because of Craven. Deep down, the reason why Craven is doing this is because he’s scared of you. He may be a dark blood, and he might have plenty of power. But he’s not a Drake, you could pluck him off like a tick and he knows it. That is why he wants to kill you before your birthday. But you’re not going to let him are you? Are you going to let him take everything from you?”
“No.” Ethan swiped the tears from his face and stared back out of the window at the man, who was already turning the corner of the street. “I am going to rip his head off and feed it to a hellhound.”
Glass shattering interrupted Adam’s response and before they could wonder where it had come from, Preston Corwin barreled down the hallway and burst into the living room, startling Sage awake.
Ethan and Adam rushed out from behind the curtains and saw Preston leaning over a chair, breathing hard. Preston quickly found his composure and looked head on at Ethan. Their eyes latched onto each other’s and Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.
“Vander has Emma and Logan.”
10
; The decaying manor stood on a hill near a frozen lake surrounded by dead, snow packed trees. The windows were broken and vacant, with ragged purple curtains fluttering in the cold gentle wind.
The home looked abandoned and seemed to give off an eerie feeling.
The road to town was long and no footprints or tire trails could be seen for miles. Inside of the rickety old manor, a man and a woman lounged in the living area, the fireplace roaring with white flames. The faint sound of orchestral music was coming from a small battery powered radio that sat on a broken window seal.
“Go check on ‘em.” a tall tawny man ordered in his rugged southern accent, kicking the side of the woman’s already conked out chair. She stood, quickly and glared at the man before descending down a darkened hall.
Wicked (The Drake Chronicles Book 1) Page 8
