Children of Blood ✔️

Chapter Eight

Alaric's crystal eyes never shut. His face calm and filled with faith as the man behind him drops his brandish steel sword before quickly following it.

My heart aches as a sudden realization slams into the side of my skull. It is not that I kill this man, but that this man— no, this monster, willingly watched Roxy die.

My shoulder brushes against Alaric's as my lengthy strides guide me to the bleeding man on the ground. I reach over and wrap my slender fingers around the arrow's shaft and yank it out of his chest. The man gasps and I shove my hand over his mouth to stifle the scream as his flesh splits away from the arrow's sharp edges.

I raise a finger to my lips, threatening him to remain silent before releasing my hand from his mouth. Leaning back I stare at the dying man in front of me.

"You are a mistake to the human race," the man whispers as his dark, warm blood pools out of him. "You aren't human, you're a demon."

My eyes cloud over becoming misty as my jaw clenches as my hand smashes down on his face. I rise and yank the man up with me before throwing him down to the concrete watching the life leaves his eyes. Anger stirs in my stomach and a unquenchable thirst rivets through my body. My foot draws back and collides with his ribs, over, and over, and over again. The crack of his bones and the sweet release of his collapsed diaphragm doesn't stop me but only satisfies my thirst for revenge.

Roxy's revenge.

My mind slips further the more the toe of my shoe slips into his body, that is until a soft hand ushers me away from my blinded rage.

"Don't become the monster they make you out to be," Alaric whispers as he draws me away. The tears on my face force me to look away before they make me look more weak and brittle than I already am. My ragged breathe hitches in my throat every time I try to ease the pain in my chest, and my mind is no longer clouded with destruction, but anguish.

I shake my head and turn to see Alaric who's eyes don't hold pity, but sympathy.

"He's the monster..." I whisper and Alaric shifts rubbing his hand up and down my arm soothingly. "If the human race is like this," I gesture my hand to the beaten man on the floor, "I don't want to be apart of it."

Alaric only nods before he grabs a cloth from his pocket and begins to wipe down my incriminatingly-stained hands, "me neither."

We stand silently for a few moments as I steady my breath and dry my tears while Alaric wipes my blood-soaked skin— cleansing me from the dark deed I had only committed minutes ago.

My mouth opens and shuts as I try to find the words to thank him, but of course nothing comes out. Finally, I force myself to break the silence, "why didn't you pull out your sword?"

"Pardon?" Alaric asks stilling holding my cold hands in his large warm ones.

"Why didn't you pull out your sword when I shot?" I ask staring intently at his fingers, pulling away only for him to pick my hands back up.

"Because I knew your heart is in the right place. I had— I have faith in you."

"Well if you keep putting your faith and trust in everyone than you're going to end up dead," I bluntly spout, confused as of why he'd choose to trust me of all people.