Blue Flames

Chapter 48

I sparred with Charles until my bones turned to Jelly. It seemed that he was, indeed, as fast as I was. I had only been able to outsped him because of the blood lust.

It was known that being in a state of blood lust had a positive effect on performance. That was one of the reasons it was dangerous. A blood crazed beast with unmatched speed and strength, and a high pain threshold, was a nightmare.

It did, however, feel as though Charles no longer hated my guts unbearably. I had no delusions, though; he would still rather cut me off from Arthur's life since he saw me as an indirect threat. But after today, I would like to think he wouldn't be too glad about detaching my head from my body.

Exhausted, I took a shower and crashed. Sleep came willingly, as if it knew how much I needed rest. But it did not bring with it peace.

Uncle Robert was sitting under a tree next to our cabin. The ground was scorched and bare of any grass, just as it had been when he'd died years ago. The smell of burnt earth and flesh heavy in the air. But our little cabin was still there and trees grew tall and green. 

Uncle Robert was cleaning his sword, but as I got closer, I could see that the blood did not disappear from it. He looked up and met my eyes. My heart dropped to my knees. Because instead of his familiar lined smile, there was a sneer on his face.

"It's your fault," his voice echoed all around us though he did not move his lips. I wanted to speak, to move, to do something, anything, but I couldn't.

Paralyzed, I watched as uncle Robert stood up and moved to the hole in the ground I'd just now noticed. He started covering the hole with dirt using his hands, just as I had done to bury his body.

He looked back at me and said, "Come look at what you did."

Then I was standing beside him, looking down at the grave. The body was half covered with dirt, but his face was clear to my eyes. It was Arthur.

A scream lodged in my throat, unable to escape. I struggled for breath, frozen in place by the accusing look in Arthur's brown eyes.

He was gone.

A massive wave of sadness suddenly crashed over me, drowning my lungs and breaking my heart into tiny pieces.

"Elle? Elle."

Arthur was gone.

And it was my fault again. As it had been my fault that my mother died, as it had been my fault that uncle Robert died.

"ELLE!"

I opened my eyes with a gasp. Sucking in air like I had been suffocating. Arthur's face was above me.

"Elle?"

"Arthur," was what I tried to say, but it came out as a strangled breath. My surroundings slowly became clear. My body was drenched with sweat and my muscles were tense to a painful point.

"You're awake," Arthur said. He was leaning over me, his hands on my shoulders. I put my hands on his face, my arms hurting from the tension they had been in. His skin was rough and warm.

"You're alive," I whispered. His eyes, darker than the dark room, twitched. The bond, which had been almost dormant the past few days, buzzed with a sudden burst of emotion.

He turned his face into my palm. "I'm alive."

The heavy rock on my heart refused to go away. I stared at him, unable to believe that he was here. He was not dead.

I caressed his cheek. It was warm and stubbly. The amount of heat he generated and his earthy smell were familiar, a welcome reassurance.

Slowly, my heart calmed down and my sense of reality came back. It had been a horrible dream. But it was just a dream. Arthur was alive.