Night Guardians

Chapter Twenty One- Sharp Blades

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*Beth POV*

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, my last day as a human. It felt like it was so long ago, almost an eternity, even if it was only a single year. I wished that I could say it was normal, but my last few days as a human were anything but that. They were alien to me, as if they weren’t a part of my life, but someone else’s.

Hell, I wish that were true. But life sucked anyway, whether you were a human or not. It didn’t change the quality of life, just the way of it.  

I was laying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling of my room. In my human life, I’d always loved to paint. I spent hours at a time working on the ceiling of this room, painting it so that all the different swirls of black, navy and silver coordinated into a night sky, the Night Guardian symbol of the Moon and Star hanging in the centre of the ceiling. When I’d first moved into this room painting it was the only thing that kept me sane through my first few weeks as a Shadow Being.

Well, half a Shadow Being.

I bit into the pillow I’d been clutching, my teeth shredding through the fine material. The fluff from the duck feathers got stuck to my tongue as I tried to spit them out.

I reached my hand inside my boot, pulling out the dagger I always kept there. I almost laughed. A gun tucked in my jeans and a silver dagger hidden in my boot. In mortal reality, a normal teenager would’ve gotten arrested for even handling one of the weapons I carried with me all of the time.

I held the knife in my hands, the blade glinting in the candle light that illuminated my bedroom from the chandelier beneath the painted symbol.

I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket, pushing them past my elbows. I felt the cool edge of the dagger press into the skin of my wrist. I felt no pain, no hesitation in the act, nothing. The warm liquid that was my blood ran down my arm, meeting the end of my sleeve. I lifted the dagger in my hand, turning it over. The tip of the blade was stained with crimson red, trickling down the silver edge down to the specifically crafted black hilt. My reflection in the blade stared back at me, the pair of eyes of identical colour to the silver forged in the dagger, filled with depression and hopelessness.

I lifted my wrist up to the light, watching the rapid healing take place. The cut where I’d used the blade began to close up. The bleeding stopped, the red streaks along my arm already drying up and crackling.

In a few seconds, the cut had completely healed, leaving only a pink scar in its place.

“Well,” I sighed. “That was pointless.”

I sank back into the pillows, my mind drifting away. My eyes grew heavy, slowly sinking closed as I got swept up into the blissful state of unconsciousness.

*

Cairo stood before me in the extravagant lounge, the same lounge where Zane, my newly discovered half-brother, had slammed us both into a wall. I rubbed my head where I’d been hit from taking the full blow against the brick wall.

It had knocked me out cold, for hours apparently. When I’d woken up I was lying in the same room I’d stayed the previous night in. Cairo had collected me again and taken me back here. Once again I had no clue why or what was going on, but I expected it that Cairo wanted it that way.

I hadn’t seen Zane. He hated me. Hell that was sugar coating it with ice cream and candy balls. That guy wanted me gagged, beaten and buried alive in the Sahara. I knew his so called reason, but I still couldn’t understand why it made him want to kill me. I mean I’d never met him before in my life until yesterday.