The Vampire Queen and the Mortal Pauper

Chapter Thirty-four

I am not such a Patient Soul

Dalvitore hadn't escape far as presumed. He appeared just some distance away from the villa. Still, he continued to flee and physically distance himself from where that 'brat monster' was left. The forest made the perfect cover. However, his saving grace was the vial gifted by his apparent 'new friends'. The dark witches. They had specially concocted a potion which when exposed to the air, erupts into thick fumes and obscure the senses of any being if inhaled. Although limited in his possession, Dalvitore was left with no other option other than to use the potion and flee from Theodore. Who knows what could have happened if he had not.

The ousted vampire prince was left utterly humiliated and filled with extreme spite. Theodore didn't hold back in ruthlessly thrashing Dalvitore like he was some newbie vampire, despite being older by couple of centuries! The gap difference in their strength was too outrageous. Furthermore, the brat wanted to remind Dalvitore that he was still the discarded trash of the family.

Dalvitore loathed his half-brother so much. He despised how the brat carried himself all high and mighty just because he was a pure blood. He also loathed his father. The old fuck discarded him and gave away what was rightfully his. He never failed to show Dalvitore that it was his very own circumstance that was to blame for all his misfortunes. He was born from that pathetic mortal woman, and thus why he hated his mother above all else. She was the reason why he will forever be a half-blood. A tainted vampire. Although she was long dead after all these centuries, he still blamed her for everything.

Dalvitore wanted to roar out in anger and curse aloud. Alas, that only reminded him of his broken jaw. Theodore was too brutal. Alas, that was how vampires were. Ruthless monsters with no heart. He trudged across the forest while cradling his broken arm and huffing with a livid face. All his injuries would heal in no time, but shame would haunt him forever.

There was a reason why Dalvitore indulged in his monstrosity vampirism. Not only did he love the slaughter, but causing problems for his family brought some satisfaction. Furthermore, things were about to change. Soon he shall have his sweet cold revenge. He would make everyone regret and live in constant terror.

He was initially shocked how his family knew about his alliance with the dark witches. However, that should be no surprise as to how Theodore found him so fast. The family must be secretly surveilling him. Then again, that would not matter any longer. Just imagining what was stowed brought a sinister grin upon his face.

*******

The imposing 7-storey manor which belonged to none other than Isabella was subjugated to a nerve-racking situation. Grandpa Han and the Laracrofts witches were left in dread and with bated breaths. They were woken up to a problem. A very huge and precarious problem. Unexpected guests had paid them a surprise visit.

One of the visitors was a Caucasian elderly man. Although his aged appearance, he looked so robust and gave off a very imposing aura. He stood upright and defiantly in the lounge room with arms crossed across his heaving chest, and glaring daggers at everyone else. Whenever they sized up Grandpa Han, a faint look of contempt crossed his wrinkly face.

Grandpa Han could only avert his gaze and cower. He was well aware of the identity of this elderly man. And it was surprisingly the prominent Hon. General Andrew Barthwell, the Alpha of the Barthwell Pack! Although officially retired from his duties as the Head General of the Meilane Armed Forces, his grand achievements had the State keep the honorary title to his name, hence the nickname, General.

He was accompanied by his four Pack members. Their stout and menacing demeanor easily showed they were the finest warriors. Also, their simple dressing indicated they were ready for a fight if need be. The vests and beach shorts can be discarded once they shift to their beastly forms.