𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞

NINE: Save The Ex-Cheerleader.

CHAPTER NINE: Save The Ex-Cheerleader.

The air in the Forrest was a bitter cold but that didn't stop Duncan from searching through it for the guy he'd been chasing after for a while. He pulled his phone from out of his pocket and followed the Peyton's location.

He walked through the Forrest until he got out of it and reached what looked like a grass play field for hard sports like football and polo. Duncan raised his head from the iphone and searched the large open field with appraising eyes.

He spotted Peyton standing and sticking out like a sore thumb right in the middle of the field. Barefoot in shorts and a simple thin white V- neck. Without thinking relief flooded him and he spat a curse as he flapped his arms and ran to him.

"Peyton! Are you ok?" He worried as he hugged him.

Peyton didn't hug back, actually it was to the contrary. He pulled away and spoke stiffly. "Did you get the locket I sent for you?"

Duncan's head spun, "What?"

Peyton lifted a hand and lowered the collar on Duncan's shirt. Duncan trembled in a physical reaction to Peyton's touch. "Peyton, are you hurt anywhere?"

Peyton smiled beautifully; white teeth stretched rosy lips, dusted pink cheeks and all. "I've been trying to get this to you for years. Do not be afraid, my name is Casper and I..."

Duncan cut him off, "did you hit your head or something?" He started to search Peyton's head for injuries. "How did you get here? Their fences are electrocuted and shit."

Wind blew and took with it Peyton from his hands but he hadn't seen it yet as he covered his eyes and coughed. After rubbing out the dust from his irritated eyes he opened them to look at Peyton but Peyton wasn't in front of him anymore.

Duncan panicked and turned around searching the field for Peyton. He started to grab his iphone when he heard a sinister laugh.

"Behind you." A firm, female taunting voice sang.

He looked behind him but there was nothing there. He appraised the large field but he was all alone in it now.

"Behind you, Everton witch." Another mischievous male taunting voice sang.

When he looked there was no one and nothing there but the wind. "Who are you? Peyton?" He called out, palms foiled into fists ready to blow.

"Peyton isn't here right now," Ernest Sinclair's face blurred in front of him with a corona of fire in his eyes. That reminded him of the version of Harold he'd seen in the nightmare. His fangs were out, blood stained from having had just sunk into Peyton's neck. "His blood though...Mhm Mhm...de-li-cious."

Duncan roared charging at the smirking Sinclair devil child. He shoved his fist to hit Ernest in the face but was surprised when it hit the air instead. Duncan turned and saw no one, he could hear laughing though.

So he kept turning and turning until Ernest revealed himself from his left side. "Did your friend call you here?"

Duncan didn't answer, he didn't have any weapons so he started to appraise Ernest to see if he could overwhelm him by anything he had on. Ernest wore a pair of dark jeans, a dark shirt that held a pair of dark aviators by its vee neck. An old leather jacket and a pair of ankle boots. Basically nothing Duncan could use to his advantage. He searched the ground and picked up a thick and long stick, "Give him to me." He demanded through a prison of gritted teeth.

"Duncan darling," Harriet Sinclair revealed herself from his right side. She was in a delicate blood red silk dress that reached her toes. Toes that were closed by a pair of ballet flat pumps.  The dress had an open slit that ran all the way up to reveal most of her firm thigh. That held a black garter with a tube of purple liquid in its lacy confines. "This is private property, you do know we could have you arrested if we want yes?" She spoke as though she was making a statement.

Duncan's head was spinning, so much was happening and he needed to help Peyton. He didn't answer right away, he was thinking.

Harriet took flight and started to lavitate in the air, circling him as though he was an animal at the zoo. "What should we do with him dear brother?"

Ernest ran his long fingers along Peyton's neck and exposed shoulders and replied "I need food to think, let me just..." ....he sunk his elongated incisors into the pulsating vein along Peyton's swan like neck.

"You're vampires!" Duncan frothed in disgusted disbelief. "Kill him and I'll kill you!"

"We are not vampires."Harriet shrugged landing her feet in the ground as she went to join her brother on Peyton's blood.

"Leave him!" Duncan screamed as he charged to the twosome with his wooden stick.

"Stop!"

A voice rang with authority echoing through the wide play field in the middle of the Forrest. Duncan swung around, the piece of wood raised a little above his head. The Sinclair siblings also turned but instead of confronting the intruder they melted into the shadows. Their fangs sank back in their gums and they bowed. Slowly crouching until they landed on single knees, a right hand on their chests each in a submissive position.

Duncan was confused so he narrowed his eyes at the approaching figure trying to get a better look at it. It was a male figure; he was much older and tall, not particularly too big or large but he looked fit and trim underneath the handsomely tailored frock coat, a gleaming white shirt and a perfectly tied cravat he had on. The shadowed man also wore a top hat and his every movement was elegance itself, hinting at wealth and power.

His mannerisms when walking were handsome and were utterly without hesitance or fear.

Duncan's breath was held and his mind was certain no other man had ever looked out of place than this one...and only one other.

Harold Sinclair.

"I knew I'd find you two here." The man said, closer now and his voice rang familiar to Duncan's ears although he couldn't place it just yet.

In lighting fast speed the man went to stand beside Peyton.

The others turned lifting up off the grass but making no move whatsoever to get in the man's way. They'd even left Peyton all alone standing like a love rag doll.

Duncan gasped turning around, "what the hell!"

The man took off his top hat crossing it over his chest gentlemanly and simultaneously revealing his face. "Mr Sinclair?" He held back a gasp.

The aboriginal royal blood reaper took Peyton's soiled hand and kissed the top of it. "Casper you've chosen the wrong time to conduct your affairs. My boy will never know of you ever again, let this be the last I tell you nicely. Now go before you really upset me."

[continued]