Chapter 3 The dark urge.
All through the night, as the music thundered heavily through the grand party hall, Dicksons hands lingered heavy on my waist.
It irritated me and It stung my skin. A dim, dangerous crimson flickered in my eyes and my hand twitched desperate to draw a blade and plunge it into his chest. But one thought held me back: let him.
I knew Wizard Klein and I knew his wicked, calculated mischief, and that knowledge drew me closer to Dickson. It wasn't out of love or desire, but a desperate, burning need to uncover whatever darkness Wizard Klein had inflicted upon me.
"Hey, Claire! Are you even here with me?" Dickson yelled above the deafening bass, his grip tightening around my waist.
I gave a faint nod, avoiding his gaze entirely.
Slowly, the music swelled. The lights on the dance floor dimmed to a very suffocating dark. and agonizing sting shot through my skull again and blurring my vision. Sensing the sudden change in me, Dickson pulled me closer leaning down to whisper against my ear.
"Let me take you to my room," he murmured. "You look like you need to lie down."
I didn't hesitate. Even when I caught sight of the three men in dark suits watching us from the dark at the far end of the hall, I agreed. I wanted to see what they were after and I wanted them to run back and report every single detail to whoever sent them.
Dickson led me away from the party, deep into the east wing of the estate,his private quarters.
He gripped the brass handle, pushing the heavy double doors open. The room was bathed in an eerie dark red glow that sent a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over me. The pain in my head throbbed violently. Unsteadily, I found my hand resting against his waist.
"Claire?" he asked, supporting my weight as he guided me toward the bed. "Are you alright?"
I didn't answer him. Not because I couldn't, but because I wanted him to feel the rage consuming me from the inside out. Seeing Wizard Klein tonight had shattered everything.
All this time, I thought he was dead. I thought he had fled the country. But seeing him unchanged and seeing that he had a son brought every buried memory rushing back in an terrifying clarity.
The nightmare of his long, razor-sharp claws digging into my skull when I was just a three-month-old infant...
"Claire...!! Dickson gasped. His eyes widened as my fingers dug painfully into his side. "Your grip... you're hurting me!"
He cried out in pain, but I didn't care. Fueled by raw and an unadulterated fury, I gripped the front of his shirt and tore it open, my eyes glowing a feral crimson.
"Claire!" he screamed, desperately trying to shove me off but before he could react, I slammed my hand against his throat pinning him down.
"What is wrong with you?!" he wheezed, terror twisting his features. "Why are your eyes glowing like that?!"
He didn't even realize the blood already soaking through his waistband where my nails had punctured his flesh.
"This is how I do my things, Dickson," I whispered, my voice dripping with cold malice.
I reached for his belt, and a agonized growl tore from his throat.
"Claire, please!" he sobbed, tears of terror spilling over his cheeks. "Tell me what's going on!"
I shed my long jacket letting it pool onto the floor. I tilted my head, offering his petrified face a slow, sinister smile.
"This is how I take what I want, and desired Dickson..."
Before I could drive my nails any deeper into his flesh, the bedroom doors burst open and two of the men in suits lunged into the room, hauling me off Dickson with heavy force. The third man yanked a bleeding, trembling Dickson off the bed and dragged him out into the corridor.
Dickson stared back at me in utter horror as they carried him away, leaving a smear of fresh blood on the floorboards.
"Claire!"
Joan's shrill scream echoed through the hallway. She rushed into the room, her eyes wide as she took in the bloodstains on the floor.
"What happened?!" she shrieked, clutching her face. "Did he hurt you?! Who were those thugs, and why did they drag him away after doing this to you?!"
Joan's frantic voice bounced off the walls, but I remained stone-silent. I rose from the bed and pushed past her so hard she stumbled backward, nearly crashing onto the mattress.
"Claire?!" Joan gasped, scrambling after me in shock. "Are you really okay?!"
"Well, well... if it isn't Ms. Witch," a voice drawled from the doorway.
Standing in the hallway was a young man clad in a dark suit. The moment my eyes landed on him, a violent flash of memory hit me like a physical blow.
Two years old. A bloody fight.
The jagged, ugly scar running across his cheek”the exact mark left by the broken glass I had shoved into his face those years ago.
I forced my expression to remain blank, pretending not to recognize him.
"Ms. Witch?" Joan repeated, looking between us in confusion. "That was my private nickname for you... you said nobody else called you that! How does he know you?!"
Joan stepped in front of me, glaring at the intruder. "Who the hell are you, and why are you calling her that?!"
I didn't utter a word. My gaze remained locked on his face. He was one of them. Klein's crew or rather Klein's bloodline.
His heavy dress shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he stepped closer, a dark, unsettling smile playing on his lips.
"Do you remember this?" he asked, tapping the jagged scar on his cheek.
Another blinding pain shot through my head, but I forced my posture to stay rigid, fighting the dizzy spell threatening to pull me under.
I turned to Joan, my voice hollow. "We need to go."
I turned on my heel, but he surged forward, cutting off my exit.
"It's Favier," he sneered with his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Remember me? The boy you almost slaughtered, you psychopath! Do you remember the night of the fire? The night you broke free from Klein's grip and ran to that pathetic woman?"
He leaned in, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper. "What a sweet little family you've found for yourself. Do they have any idea what you really are?"
Before he could finish, Joan shoved him backward with all her strength. "What the hell are you talking about?! My friend would never hurt anyone! She's harmless she couldn't even hurt a fly.Get out of our way before I call security!
Favier scoffed and shoved Joan aside so hard she slid across the floorboards. She sat there in shock, staring up at him with wide, terrified eyes.
"I don't know who you are," I said, my voice was deadpan. "Let us leave."
Favier shook his head, a sickening chuckle escaping his throat. "You nearly murdered an innocent man tonight with your bare hands. And here I thought you were trying to live a nice, normal life with your new family."
His smile faded, replaced by a dark, cruel sneer.
"Oh... may her soul rest in peace. Mrs. Sleen."
At the mention of my mother's name, the world went pitch black behind my eyes.
My hands clenched into tight, bloodless fists. The dam broke, and the memory flooded my mind...
FLASH BACK
I was only two years old when I escaped Wizard Klein's clutches. He realized he couldn't control the ancient power sleeping inside me nor could he control my mother.
He violated my mother right in front of me, trying to break her, but she refused to love him. She belonged to my father.
When we tried to flee that night, Klein's rage consumed him. He raised his dark staff and laid another horrifying curse upon our bloodline.
I remembered standing outside in the freezing cold, listening to her screams. And I remembered the boy”Favier. I had a childhood crush on him back then, but when he tried to play his cruel tricks on me that night, my frustration exploded.
A violent, bloody fight broke out between two children. I nearly tore him apart with a piece of shattered glass before my mother rushed out, horrified by the blood pooling on the ground.
I spared him that night only because part of me had cared for him only and never fully loved him.
"Claire!" Joan's voice shattered the flashback.
She grabbed my arm, yanking me away from Favier.
Favier leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms with his head tilted. The flashing party lights danced across his face, highlighting the jagged scar across his cheek. He didn't chase after us. He just stood there, smiling darkly as he watched us run.
