Silently Hunted

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

It had all happened so fast. Anya was finding it difficult to sequence the events. From when the doors had opened to the courtyard, to her finding herself in the sumptuous surroundings of the suite of rooms, directly across from the most stunning angel she had ever met. This was way beyond her comfort zone. She had not expected any of this. If anything she expected to be in the dungeons.

Everyone had heard of the Stronghold’s dungeons. The screams are meant to echo for years in certain contained areas. As if the angels themselves cannot escape the deeds that only the vampires were ‘supposed’ to complete. The humans saw the angels as the light, and the vampires as the darkness. Having no choice over which dome they lived in they had to cope. But most would prefer the angels. Not seeing the hidden danger that lay only skin deep.

She had never forgotten just how dangerous angels were. Their Silent Wing, as deadly, if not more so than Nathaniel’s Shadow Hunters. For the angels had the advantage of flight, while the vampire only had the shadows to hide within. The stories she had heard whispered of the dungeons, were the things of nightmares. And yet while others may scoff at some of the tales, she believed each and every bone chilling one of them. And yet, as the half breed they had hunted through the ages, she somehow found herself in a room drenched in light, now the brief storm had passed.

Three of the walls she could tell were the original stone work of the Stronghold. While the fourth wall, the one overlooking the courtyard beneath was wall to ceiling glass. A railing free balcony that she knew was off limits to her. And yet it was still a sumptuous prison setting. There was no argument in her mind, she was still a captive, and this was just a gilded cage in which to keep her wings clipped. Wings she her body still refused to retract. But the furniture was made to cope with wings.

Not able to keep her gaze from returning again to the woman opposite her, she took in the power that radiated off of her first. Before her looks, it was that power which had Anya almost short of breath when she had first felt it. And yet the power within Anya had crept to the surface without her conscious choice and fought it back. It felt as if she should recognise this woman, but she also knew she had never seen her before.

There were unobtrusive guards around the room. Aware but distant. They would not move unless instructed too. And while Anya was off put to have anyone listen in on her conversations, it was easy to ignore them as they made no movement. In fact she was more scared that one or more may have stopped breathing and no one had noticed due to how still and stiff they held themselves.

“Anevia.” Her gaze was drawn back to the woman who had just taken a sip out of a tiny decorative, delicate, china tea cup. The woman’s light brown hair would have been classed as mousy on any other woman. But it seemed to glow with a luscious sheen, her skin flawless as the porcelain in her hand. As smooth and as cold, Anya was sure. Her features were similar to…something she could not quite grasp. Someone, someone she knew well but could not place. Only the eyes were the wrong colour, this woman’s eyes were clear. No not quite. The iris was faceted like a diamond, tiny sparks of ever changing colour as the light them.

It made her almost impossible to read. “Do I have your attention now Anevia? I know all of this must be very overwhelming for you.” The voice was mesmerising, soprano and as clear as the eyes. Yet holding an indefinable note, which did not strike Anya in the right way. Almost as if she was mocking her with her words.

“Yes, of course. But I do not go by Anevia, have not for a long time. I prefer Anya.” She did not make the mistake of being the first to question someone she had no doubt was an ancient among her kind.

“No, I do not think that is acceptable. Your given name was Anevia, and that it what you shall be called.” Anya felt cut to the quick by this woman. She seemed to see everything, Anya felt as if even her deepest secrets were written upon her face for all to see. Watching warily as the tea cup was placed, rather precisely, on the decorative table beside her. “Are you not curious as to who I am?” Hands folded just so, as if she was a high ranking lady hosting someone she deemed inferior. Showing off all her best assets, that she was the perfect lady Anya would never be.