Kidnapped|Book 4|A novel in the Blue Moon series| An Avengers fan fiction series|

16- The Price of Freedom

Hello, lovely readers! :D 

Here is a chapter. 

You are welcome for the double update. 

I shall promptly fail a calculus tomorrow because of it. 

Get ready for tissues.

*I JUST SWITCHED THE CHAPTER TITLE, THAT IS WHY IT MAY LOOK DIFFERENT*

~Music~

Grief (Adrian von Zeigler)

Celestial (Adrian von Zeigler)

Chapter Fifteen

 

That night, Neidra's estate falls into darkness. Only a few candles shine around, in lanterns and on tables, to give the faintest show of light. It is past midnight, and all of the house's inhabitants are sleeping, some better than others.

A shadow appears suddenly on the pebbled drive. The figure is hooded, and slinks through a rickety window, arriving in the dining room, the same dining room from the disastrous dinner. It still smells like smoke, the tablecloth scorched down the center. The figure reaches down and touches the burnt fabric, his nostrils flaring.

He walks through the house, keeping his hood tight around his face. Just as he reaches a wooden door opened to reveal a spiral staircase, his sharp, red eyes dart down to see a red something slithering on the ground. It is a red adder, its forked tongue tasting the air around it. The hooded figure turns away and walks up the stairs, silent, so that not a creak comes from his footsteps, his hood billowing in the breeze. Ordinarily, nobody could see in the dimness of the stairwell. But this creature can see in any volume of light, and makes his way quickly to the top.

Nostrils still flaring, the figure walks down the carpeted hall, past walls of weapons and tapestries and ornate vases. He reaches the end of the hallway, reaches a locked door with an elegant, brass doorknob. Pulling back his cloak, he takes out a dagger and fits it into the gaping hole of the lock. Seconds later, with precise twists, the lock snaps, and he pushes the door open.

It is completely dark inside, except the glow of the moonlight in the one small window. But the figure makes quickly for the back of the room, for there, his nose has led him, and there, another, much smaller figure, is lying on the bed.

He looks down through his hood, his red eyes shifting to the little girl. Thea is still in her thin white petticoat, but it is torn so much, her skin is bare around the top of her chest, around her waist, and around her ankles. Bits of fabric lie next to her, like dismal confetti. What is most alarming though, is the blood splattered around her, dried and disgusting, over her entire body in thin trails strategic of the whip that cut her. There is a giant bruise on one side of her cheek. Her hair is messy, and has begun to curl ever so slightly at the ends, and the thick black locks remind the figure of someone, although he cannot place it.

At that precise moment, Thea's eyes pop open, and she gasps in fright as she sees the cloaked figure standing over her bed. She tries to move, but then cries out; one of the slices on her waist begins to bleed again.

"Shh, shh, shh," says the figure, and then quickly throws back his hood, revealing broad shoulders, narrow red eyes, a strong chiseled face, and long, straight blond hair that flows down his back, "Try not to move."

"Li-Lifolas?" she whispers.

He smiles at her crookedly, his white fangs shining in the moonlight. "I was sent to get you out of here, but we must act quickly."