Fragile Fury - (Glass Angels book one)

Fragile Fury - Chapter Twenty Five

Okay, so this is a bit of a crappy filler chapter but I hope you like it anyway, sorry it's been forever....

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Through the flicker of the flames he watched them, carefully. The occasional gasp or laugh pulled his thoughts from places he couldn’t help them wandering. He nudged his feet forward till the blade of his sword touched them. Could he have saved her if he had been here sooner? His sister, the last of his family lying dead on a floor darkened with blood. If he couldn’t have, he would have at least died trying. 

     Frustrated, hurt, alone. Alone. Alone! The voice in the dark’s voice grew frantic, it screamed inside his head, until the words were burnt against the inside of his skull. Vaughn pushed himself to his feet in anger. He kicked out at his sword. It hit the opposite wall with a metallic clang. Anna and Jess screamed as the sword clattered to the floor. Then room fell silent again; he felt their eyes on him, glued to him with a calculated coldness. Where they judging him? Where their laughs about him? He glared through the dancing flames, his fists balled at his sides.

     Sweat rolled down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. His head was spinning. The smell of ash and blood coating his mouth, he fought the urge to gag. He touched his throat, he couldn’t breathe. He felt hotter; staring into the fire, the flames licking at the air, faces moving beneath the surface. Demons, angels, vampires, wolves. 

     Then one face shone out, her honey gold, hair spilling across her chest, the white of her dress high against her neck. Her face, angled with beauty and much like his, contorted to a scream. Her mouth pulled impossibly wide. She screamed. And with every ounce of his body, he heard her. 

     He fled the room. 

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Anna ignored the warnings from Jess and Damon to leave Vaughn be. They said he needed time to work it off. But she knew, just knew, that he didn’t want to be alone. So she pushed herself to her feet, walked to the door hesitating only slightly, before pushing it open. 

     He was pacing the corridor, back and forth like a caged animal. His shoulders were curled over, buzzing with barley controlled emotions. If she poked him, she thought he might explode. She didn’t approach him; she thought she better not, so decided to treat him the way she had a deer she’d befriended when she was younger. She’d seen the fawn, standing alone in a field; he was skinny and cold, and when she look, she saw his mother laying beside him. Shot. Just like Bambi. She sat down, pulled her lunch from her bag, and waited for the baby to investigate her, and when he did, she fed him her sandwich, slipped some string around his neck and walked him all the way home. He’d stayed hidden in her room, while she fed him, and when he was big, he protected her once, when he dad had come in. He was a buck by then, huge and majestic, and looking after his mom. 

      Her dad pushed her door open - drunk - staggered in, pushed her to the ground and began beating her. She remembered her scream, and the hot tears. His cruel laugh and then the roar and shattering wood of her bathroom door as the buck - Chuck - burst it, and charged straight at her dad. She set him free after that day because she knew her dad would be after him. But he came back to the woods behind her house every day, and she gave him carrots. 

      She dug deep in her pocked and pulled out a crumpled packet of mints and sat on the floor. Vaughn turned and paced towards her; she didn’t think he saw her there until she stuck her arm out. “Want a mint?” She asked. 

     He looked bewildered, then shocked, then angry. “I don’t want a mint!” He roared, hitting her hand sending the mints showering through the air. “I want my sister back!” 

     Anna bit her lip and tasted blood, “All you had to do was say no,” she sigh as she starting picking each mint up and stuffing them back in her pocket. 

     “Sorry,” He said, crouching down beside her. He held his hand out, a few mints piled in the centre, she smiled and shrugged. 

     “They’re a few months old anyway I think,” she laughed, “And I think they’ve been through the washer too.” 

     Vaughn laughed, a real laugh, and for a moment, it looked as if she’d eased his pain. “And you were trying to feed them too me?” he shook his head mockingly, “I knew you were out to kill me!” He sobered up quickly, Anna could see it in his eyes. Out to kill. Simple words, meaningless, but someone had killed his sister. Murdered. 

     “D’you want to go for a walk?” Anna stood and brushed the dust from the front of her jeans. “No one ever showed me around here...” 

     Vaughn held his arm out to her, she looped hers through his, “I’d love to.” He smiled. 

     And fake as it may have been, it made her smile in return. 

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“So, who d’you reckon’ll die first?” Damon asked absently reaching into the fire and pulling out a flame; he twirled it between his fingers like orange paper. 

     “What?” Jess was leaning with her ear against the door listening to what was going on in the corridor. He’d tried telling her the oak was too thick, but she was stubborn and wouldn’t listen. “Oh, shut up!” 

    He chuckled, before saying “Jess?” His tone was serious. 

    She turned to him frowning, “Yeah?” 

   “Are you on your period or just plain moody?” He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. 

     “Shut up!” She growled, and before he knew it, a snowball, smashed into the side of his cheek, and when he looked up. She was the one grinning.

And then more snow came towards his face.