Blue Flames

Chapter 25

The next morning, there was a knock on my door shortly after dawn. I groaned, knowing who it was before seeing his dark head walk through my door.

"It's rude to walk in uninvited," I said, glaring at Arthur. 

He looked around the small cabin that was now my own space. His black t-shirt and pants only emphasized his wild, overwhelming presence. He didn't belong inside a small, caged space.

"This island is mine. I don't need an invitation."

I couldn't handle him first thing in the morning. I'd purposefully overslept to avoid the guilt of standing him up, but apparently, I had no reason to worry. His eyes swept over the place again as he approached the bed where I laid under the covers.

"What?" I asked when he kept staring.

"Are you always grumpy in the morning?"

"Only when I get unwanted wake up calls from overbearing vampire lords." I said pushing off the covers and sitting up in bed. My hair must be all over the place, my t-shirt was crumpled and one leg of my pajama pants was up to my knee.

A deep chuckle and a tug on a wild strand of my hair. I glared up at Arthur who was clearly amused.

"Get up, I'll wait outside." He walked away, calling over his shoulder, "don't be late. And bring your sword."

I grumbled as I changed into a sweatshirt and cargo pants, pulled on my combat boots. My hair would just have to wait until after I dealt with Arthur. I grabbed the sword. The weight brought back unwanted memories, but I gritted my teeth and pushed open the door.

Arthur was holding his sword. He glanced at the sword in my hand and raised a brow, "you're going to fight with a sheathed sword?"

"I told you, I'm not fighting with a sword."

"But you're carrying it," he said, "if you truly did not want to fight with it, you wouldn't have brought it out even when I told you to. Especially when I told you."

I blinked, and realized he was right. I usually rebelled against his orders on principle. I didn't bring my sword just because he told me to. I looked down at the weapon.

"Alright," Arthur walked up to me, "why are you opposed to using a sword?"

I glared at him, "I'm not opposed to using it, I just don't want to."

"you're not making any sense," he said, stopping close enough for me to see the individual strands that escaped the long waves of his hair and settled on his forehead. "When was the last time you fought with it?"

I shifted on my feet, "does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters. Tell me when's the last time you used a sword." He paused, "please."

I couldn't help but smile. I looked at the lightening sky, "eleven years ago. When we fought Martin Malone and his cronies."

"What happened?"

I looked down as I passed the sword to my other hand, tightening my grip on the hilt. "Nothing particular happened. It was just... ugly."

There had been so many of them. A close call. By all means, I should've died that day, but uncle Robert had put himself between me and the enemy on more than one occasion. Eventually, he took a blow that led to his end.

There was so much blood, so much death. Limbs and heads strewn all over the forest floor, the stink of blood and gore permeating the air, and utter silence. Even predators were too afraid to roam close by. It was the first time I was truly and utterly alone. I had realized then that a sword was not enough.