The Tribrid and Her Reflection {Book Two - - Complete}

Midnight Candlelight

The night that followed the whispering voice was restless. Hope couldn't fall back to sleep despite her efforts. She even counted Newt's heartbeats and tried to make her breathing pace match his.

Nothing worked.

Eventually, Hope slid off the foot of the bed and dressed in the darkness. The Hope from a month ago would have cowered under the covers and tried to console herself while feeling bad for possibly waking up Albus or Newt.

This Hope didn't feel as such.

Under other circumstances, she would have chucked a shoe at them as a wake-up call and demanded they help her hunt down the disembodied voice. However, she had a feeling the thing was targeting her only when they fell asleep because it believed her to be vulnerable with her 'protectors' asleep.

Ha. Ha. Ha. She thought.

Hope rolled her eyes as she tugged her sock on and started out of the bedroom and toward the gargoyle, exiting the chambers entirely.

If she had them join her, she'd be less likely to have an encounter if somebody were in her company. So, Hope would have to go this alone.

You know, like the dumb person in every horror movie.

The thought made Hope grin.

While true, most horror movie victims weren't killers themselves. Isn't that a funny premise?

Hunting the hunter?

Winding her way through the dark corridors, Hope moved silently so as to not wake the snoring paintings on either side of her. It was still very late, or was it just very early? In any case, the sun hadn't sprouted over the hills from what she could see as she passed ceiling tall windows.

Now, to find a good place to lay in, wait as bait for a strange entity that seemed to think she belonged to them. First, she was groped in the dungeon, and now she'd clearly heard 'mine' in her ear when lying in bed.

Enough was enough.

After some thought, Hope paused in the hallway and headed toward the Library. After all, it was nice and quiet and had plenty of places to hide and attack if things got out of hand with...well, whatever this thing was.

As she turned, at the end of the dark hall, seemingly to float in the air was a single lit candle. Its long white waxed body was a stark comparison to the darkness around it. Knitting her brows together, Hope tilted her head to the side, trying to focus her sight on the candle and who might be holding it.

From what she could see...no one held it.

"That's not creepy..." Hope narrowed her eyes and, with a sigh, moved forward, but with each step she took toward the light, it seemed to push further away from her. Stopping where she was, the candle stayed still, and moving backward followed her motions. If she stepped to the side, so did it.

It followed her every move as if she were staring at a mirror but not seeing herself.

Hope growled softly in irritation, and she took off at a full tribrid-speed sprint at the candle in a sudden spurt of energy. Reaching out for it, but the instant she thought she had a hold of it, the thing was gone, and she was plunged into darkness again.

Luckily enough, there was just enough light from the moon's glow that she could look down at her hand. She was sure she'd grabbed the candle but felt no heat from it. There was no wax. No evidence that signified she'd touched anything at all.

"What the actual fuck..." Hope sighed and looked up at the sound of a soft gasp.

A painting of an older woman sitting on a well under a shedding tree tsked. "Language." She scolded, fanning herself with her lace hand-fan.