Eighth Death

Chapter Ten: Escape

Who knew that the three most powerful immortals of all time could bicker for hours? Marcy stood there as she watched Sereia and Kaiza throwing insults and books at one another. While Drea slept in the corner, looking as peaceful as ever.

"You're a toe!" Sereia screeched.
"You're a toe fungus!" Kaiza snapped.

It was evening by the time Marcy finally managed to escape them, she practically fleed downstairs and sighed once she finally reached the ground floor once more. She never knew that those three lived together, she never would've wasted so much time if she did. A five hundred dollar plane ticket, and a twenty pound train ticket all to watch two people older than the grandparents of everyone she knew fight like toddlers.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance once she found the front door locked, Marcy tried not to scream as she looked around in the humongous manor for a solid twenty minutes before finding the backdoor, which was surprisingly open. It was strange, such a huge manor and yet not a servant in sight.

She stepped outside as the cold air hit her skin, suddenly she missed the warmth of the manor despite the loudness of it. She lived in New York, she was used to loud people. Maybe she just hated Kaiza, which she did.

All she found in the backyard was flower after flower. Hundreds, maybe even a thousand of them lined up, the smell of it almost suffocating. She spotted a few she was familiar with. Roses, peonies, orchids, daisies, lilacs. The rest, unknown to her.

She hummed to herself as she walked up to a nearby tree, a few petals of the fragrant lilacs fell right on top of her head, getting stuck in her hair. She didn't bother to brush them off, feeling too lazy to do so at the monent.

"I do not think, that you are supposed to be here." Someone spoke from behind her, she recognised that voice. As cold as death.

Alaric.

She froze on the spot, eyes widening. He was here, What was he doing here? Unlike the other three, who could be easily found on the map. Alaric was everywhere, she knew he could teleport and she knew no map, no matter how magical could keep up with his speed.

"Answer me." He ordered, his tone stern. She reluctantly turned around. Her breath caught in her throat. It was almost night time, his light skin was a sharp contrast against the dark night, his eyes looked as if they were glowing. A cold and steely grey. But that's not what shocked her.

Not once ever in her past seven lifetimes did she ever see him without a cloak, he was always covered. Scary and mysterious like the Grim Reaper, he was basically the Grim Reaper to her, really. Yet today, the cloak was nowhere in sight. Instead, he wore a white button down, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. Only one side of it was loosely tucked into his black dress pants, his ink black curls looked slightly damp as if he had just taken a shower.

He did not look like Alaric, and yet... he did. Perhaps now was when she realized that the cloak wasn't what made Alaric the terrific and mysterious man he was, it was him.

The cold look in his eyes was not one that any regular human had, his posture was still straight and rigid. Always on guard. He tilted his head to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest, his forearms looking a little too good.

Veiny too.

Though now, he looked more human than he ever did. Was this the true Alaric? What did she know? He was just her killer, she did not know him at all, it seemed.

The thought stung more than she'd like to admit.

"Is staring at people your favourite hobby?" He asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

She snapped out of it, "You look...." She trailed away, not sure what to say. "I'm not that filthy, I have other pieces of clothing in my closet." He huffed, sounding offended.

She wasn't even sure he had a closet but okay.

Now that she thought of it, though the smell of fresh blood was always there...Alaric did smell good. Beneath all those layers of blood was usually something pleasant, like a fancy Italian soap mixed with a luxurious cologne. Along with a scent that could only be described as his. A little citrusy, a slight hint of spice and a touch of sweetness. Almost like sandalwood but not quite.

"How was I supposed to know? The only occasions you usually ever show up is to either stalk me or kill me. Did you want me to randomly ask if you happened to have a white button down or black dress pants from er.."
He eyed her up and down, looking extremely disinterested. "Armani." He confirmed.

Well, she thought. Isn't my killer just loaded?

"Whatever, how was I supposed to know you dipshi-" "You talk too much." He murmured, flicking his wrist as if he was dismissing her. "Let me curse you out for once!" She shouted, having enough.

"Why should I?" He clicked his tongue, not letting her speak before the question slipped off his tongue, smoothly. "Why are you here?"

She could feel the imaginary smoke fuming out of her ears, "Did you expect me to stay in my apartment and mix paint after the questionable act you pulled the other day?" She snapped.

It all happened right then and there. Suddenly branches, leaves and flowers from the garden all morphed together and before she knew it, she was now stuck in a cage made of nature. She looked around, confused as she pulled at one of the bars made of literal plant body parts. Yet no matter how hard she pushed or pulled. It wouldn't break. She looked at him, stunned. Fear starting to take over the little courage she had in her heart.

This was another game of his, it had to be. He got bored, for sure. Of course he wanted newer methods to kill her. He knew she'd go to Kaiza for answers, of course he did. It was all planned. Trapping her in a cage and killing her a whole year earlier than she expected, definitely sounded new and entertaining to someone like Alaric.

"Precisely." He hummed, lips curling up into a sneer when her brows furrowed. "You really have some nerve, asking questions you can't even remember."

Then out of nowhere, he raised his hand and grabbed her chin in the most gentle way possible. She should've tried fighting him off, biting him, shoving something sharp up his ass. But she was stunned.

His bare hand was touching her chin.
His bare hand was touching her chin.
His bare hand was touching her chin.
His. Bare. Hand.

Alaric had touched her before, he did so the other night in her room. But his hands were always gloved. She couldn't help but shiver as she felt his bare skin on hers, his hands were colder than expected. Like ice. Smooth and soft yet rough and calloused.

He ran a thumb over her bottom lip, the tip of it coming up bloody. Her brows furrowed once again, she had not even realized she was biting her lip. She didn't realize she was biting it that hard, at least.

All she could focus on was his touch, the pain of her fresh cut transforming into nothing when compared to the way he was now grasping her chin between his long and slender fingers  Though his touch was cold, it ignited a flame within her, a flame which she didn't know existed until now. The fire spread all throughout her chest, making her feel warmer.

That unfamiliar feeling from that night swallowed her once more.

She shouldn't want this, she shouldn't want him. She didn't want this. She didn't want him.....right?

She gulped, she had never been good at reading people and she certainly did not recognise the look in his eyes now. All she knew was that the coldness they usually held was gone, replaced by something she did not know. He cursed under his breath before he let go of her chin, making her miss his cold touch. And she hated the cold.

"You have your answer, Marceline. You most certainly wasted your time. I already gave you your answer." He spoke, his tone becoming frosty once again. Though the look in his eyes wasn't.

He took a deep breath before he repeated exactly what he told her a few nights ago, "I'm no savior but I'm the only one who has the right to make you suffer."

The last thing she saw was Alaric put his bloodstained thumb to his mouth before it all dissapeared.

The garden, the cage, Canterbury, United Kinhdom. All of it. Suddenly she was back in her art studio, in New York.