The Creators || h.styles

Chapter Four

Harry's P.O.V

When I finally kicked the door of my house shut and set the bags down, I let out a sigh of relief. Saskia ran ahead, darting around corners and exploring the house she only very vaguely remembered. I leaned against the door for a moment, different memories flooding the forefront of my mind. I grimaced, pushing them away before walking to the kitchen to fix a sandwich for Saskia.

As I walked, I scanned the house with my mind, making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary here. I found Saskia walking around her room, looking through things. Other than here, there were no other living things here apart from a few bugs and spiders and whatnot.

We'd packed up the things we needed from the large private house before moving back to England within three days. Jack had dissapeared sometime the day he'd told us he would, and Saskia had told me that he'd given her something, but not to tell me or show me what it was. I was curious, but I didn't push. I trusted Jack and my daughter.

We arrived at the airport secretly, but somehow word had gotten out that we would be returning to England and so we'd been swamped. I was still reeling from the surprise that our fans had stayed loyal after two long silent years. It made me happy, but Saskia had nearly had a heart attack, having grown up around the same six adults. She'd reacted quickly, keeping her glamour steady and staying close to me. I was sure there had been a few pictures of her in my arms but none of her face, as she'd hidden her face.

She was still excited, talking about what we would do on tour - I'd made sure we'd have a little bit of time to go sightseeing as she'd gone on endlessly about several places she'd read about, squealing in excitement as I told her we'd be visiting a few of those places.

We were leaving for the tour in two days, heading straight to America. I was keeping my mind very conciously off Jay, as I knew she could be anywhere. I finished making the sandwich for Saskia's dinner, not worrying too much about her being hungry as she'd eaten alot on the plane. She probably wouldn't even eat it, but I felt better knowing she had something there.

"Dad?"

I looked up, nearly slicing my finger off in shock. Saskia stood uncertaintly in the kitchen door, a picture frame in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. I swallowed and stepped around the bench, walking over to her and bending down onto my knees.

She looked at me levely, handing the paper to me. I slowly unfolded it, my fingers strangely stiff.

Harry.

By now you've probably realised that your mate is gone. Don't worry, she's safe. Mostly. She doesn't even remember being in pain at all. In fact, she doesn't remember anything else of the twenty years she was apart from me either. That includes you, and your daughter. Anyway, there is no point in searching for dear Jayden, as I will keep her very well hidden. I suppose I'm simply writing this to you to let you know that you're not safe. Jayden does not remember you, and with what I'm planning she's not safe either. She betrayed me, and the fact that she is your Creator makes you directly involved with that betrayal. I suggest you watch your back. It's been two years now, hasn't it? Time does fly when you're having fun. I have plans that involve you and your lovely daughter. Nice house, by the way. See you soon.

Regards, Damien.

The paper dropped from my hands before I hurridly picked it up, tucking it into my pocket. I looked at Saskia and she silently handed me the picture frame. I choked, dropping it instantly, the glass shattering. I pulled Saskia to me, holding me tightly to my chest and squeezing my eyes shut. I reached out to her mind, and my heart shuddered with the knowledge that she'd seen the image too.

I peeked open one eye, hoping against hope that I'd seen wrong. But no, laying among pieces of broken glass was the image of Jay tied to a wall, her head flung back in pain and bleeding from nearly every opening in her body. Eyes, nose, mouth, ears. She had only a bra and underwear on and her skin was littered with thousands of slices and burns. She had metal poking out from her head, and her eyes were rolled back in pain. She was so, so skinny. And the worst was the sight of the whip flying towards her again. I could almost hear her screaming.

~

Jay's P.O.V

I rolled over in bed, groaning in pain. My whole body ached, but I couldn't remember why. I must've done some intense training. Sometimes this happened, I'd loose a couple of days memories and wake up with the most painful aches, like I'd just finished healing or something.

I huffed in irritation as my body ached in protest as I pulled a pair of sweats on while hunting around around for a singlet. When I was dressed, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and yawned, walking barefoot out into the hallway, nodding at a few Warriors that passed me.

It was all hustle and bustle, preparing for the attacks Damien had organized. I had thought about questioning why we were sending out an entire army to take down such a small group, but I knew it was better to keep quiet.

I turned the corner and stumbled backwards as someone bumped into me. I looked up at a towering female, all vicious looking and with strange eyes; one blue and one amber. She frowned down at me before I hauled myself to my feet and narrowed my eyes.

"Who're you?" I asked, on the defensive.

She tipped her head to one side as if confused, but then the look cleared and she nodded, as if she had answered a question inside her head. "My name is Circe." She hesitated, her voice low and rough, with a hint of an accent. "Who are you?" She added with an afterthought.

"Jayden." I replied simply, trying to work out where I knew here from - because I did know her. Circe. "Sorry, are you a new recruit?" I wondered aloud.

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "No. I'm an old...Friend of Damiens. Just visiting. Do you know where he is?"

I nodded, my instincts telling me not to reach out and touch her mind to make sure she was telling the truth. I gestured for her to follow me as I followed the scent of my Creator, finding him in his office. I knocked once before entering, Circe behind me.

"Damien?" I asked.

He looked up from where he was looking over some paper on his desk, and met my gaze. He frowned, then his eyes shifted to Circe, and I could see the colour drain from his face. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his neck.

"Ah, Circe. How...Unexpected. Thankyou, Jayden. You can leave us now." He said hurriedly.

I nodded and backed out of the room, about to close the door when Circe's hand shot out and stopped me. She looked down at me, her forehead furrowed. "What did he do to you?" She asked.

"What?" I frowned, confused.

She was about to answer, when Damien growled. "You can go now, Jayden." He ordered.

I glanced at him and then left, my neck tingling from where Circe's gaze burned into it. I walked back down the hallway, shifting through my brain, trying to remember the name Circe. It hit me when I sat down on the couch in the lounge, clicking the TV on.

I'd met her before, fleetingly. She was old, maybe the oldest. She was in many stories, always where the action was. If she was here, then something was bound to happen. Was it the war? Surely a simple war wouldn't be enough to attract her interest; she must've seen a thousand wars in her time.

But that wasn't all she was. She was something more, and a nagging voice in the back of my head told me it had something to do with the 20 year gap in my memory.

((Ha. Still a short chapter, but far more action and omg. I did say this story would probably be a little shorter than The Warriors, but it's still got quite a bit to go. Though it's gonna move pretty fast. So please let me know your thoughts on the chapter, I'll try make the next one a little longer, I promise. Love you all!!! - Jess))