Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance
Fairydale: Part 2 – Chapter 22

‘The children are out for the day,’ Amon says as he closes the door with his foot, mischief crackling in his eyes.

‘Are they?’ I breathe out in anticipation, slowly dragging myself out of bed.

I’m wearing a loose cotton nightgown and as I push the strings off my shoulder, it slowly falls to the ground.

His eyes meet mine with intense longing before his gaze travels down my body.

‘I promised you a birthday gift, my husband, did I not?’ I ask as I take a step towards him, sinuously moving my body to distract his attention.

His throat bobs up and down as he gives me a nod of assent, yet he can’t seem to take his eyes off me.

‘And what…’ he clears his throat. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Another episode for your collection,’ I whisper when I’m in front of him.

Giving him a knowing smile, I move to the right as I remove his painting supplies from the drawer I’d stashed them in.

Amon’s eyes widen in surprise.

With time, I’ve learned to shield my mind so I can surprise him every now and then. And watching his expression, I know it’s worth all the effort.

‘You…’ he swallows hard. ‘You’ll let me paint you again?’

‘Yes,’ I answer as I move back to the bed, lifting myself up while still watching him intently. ‘But this time, I’m in control.’

‘Fuck, Lizzie mine,’ he groans. ‘You’re killing me,’ he says in a pained tone.

Beckoning him closer, I watch as he takes a pencil and a blank canvas before he moves toward me.

Shuffling in bed, I rise to my knees, moving to the edge of the bed as I slide my hands down his robe, getting a hold of the tie that holds the material together and pulling on it.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he helps me take it off him until he’s left only in a pair of silky pants, his erection unmistakable as it strains against the material.

‘Show me,’ he rasps. ‘Show me what’s in that lovely head of yours.’

A sneaky smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as I let my hands roam over his hard chest.

‘What do you think I have in mind?’ I ask on a seductive drawl.

As I bring my cheek against the front of his pants, nuzzling my flesh against that part of him and inhaling his musky scent, so male and so breathtaking, I already feel myself on the edge. But this is all for him—only for him.

I’ve been anticipating this moment for far too long. Ever since I’d seen the rapt expression on his face as he’d painted me while he was deep inside me, I knew I wanted to prepare a special treat for his birthday—the one day where he is the only one on the receiving end.

Opening my mouth on top of the material, I suck lightly on the head of his cock before I trace his outline with my tongue.

A hiss escapes him, his eyes snapping closed. Moving the pencil in his other hand, he threads his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp as he urges me on.

‘Today is my day to worship you,’ I whisper, looking up at him and letting him see all the naked desire in my eyes—the fact that I’m dying to touch and please him.

‘Lizzie,’ he rasps, biting back a curse as he opens his mouth on a labored breath. ‘You know you don’t…’

‘Shh,’ I whisper, hooking my fingers on the band of his pants and pulling down. ‘Anything that gives you pleasure gives me pleasure,’ I murmur lovingly.

His cock springs free, the length slapping against his stomach just as he releases a harsh groan. I lick my lips as desire pools low in my belly, arousal dripping from me as I take him in.

He’s so beautiful. So male. And all mine.

I’ve never failed to be astounded that this man is all mine. Mine to touch, kiss, and hold dear. He’s only mine and will only ever be mine.

His muscles strain just as his cock twitches, moisture accumulating at the tip. His ring gleams in the dim lighting, the evidence of his eternal commitment never failing to get me all hot and bothered, goosebumps erupting all over the surfaces of my skin as my core tingles with awareness.

I waste no time in putting my hands on him, touching him, trailing my fingers lightly all over his shaft, and marveling all over again at the velvety feel of his skin and the warmth emanating from him.

Repeating the action from before, I bring my cheek against his erection, brushing my flesh against his in the barest touch as I continue to inhale his musky scent.

A small tremor goes through him, his breathing intensifying as I nuzzle my cheek against his length.

‘Ah, Lizzie. My beautiful Lizzie,’ the words slip from his mouth as he continues to pet my head, twirling his fingers through my hair and encouraging me to continue what I’m doing.

‘I love the feel of you, Amon,’ I whisper as I bring my lips to his skin, trailing reverent kisses all over the surface. ‘The sight. The smell. Everything.’

He groans when I reach the tip, swiping the moisture with my tongue.

‘Fuck, Lizzie,’ he hisses as I lightly lap at him, slow and precise movements that I know will get the most out of him. ‘Your lips on my cock and I’m done,’ he says harshly. ‘Your pretty mouth swallowing my cock and I’m fucking done.’

‘Not yet,’ I reply cheekily, winking at him.

Bringing my hand to the base of his shaft, I palm his balls with the other one, kneading softly while I lavish attention to the tip with my mouth, wetting it thoroughly and getting him mindless with frustration.

When he’s almost wild with want, I give him a long lick from base to tip before I wrap my lips around the head, his ring clanking against my teeth as I suck him in.

‘Fuuuck,’ he curses out.

‘Like this,’ I say as I move back an inch, lathering his cock in my saliva. ‘Paint me like this. At your mercy with your cock in my mouth. Paint me like this, Amon,’ I tell him fervently, knowing this will give him the most pleasure.

‘Lizzie,’ he calls my name in a stained voice. ‘Is that what you want? To paint you choking on my cock? With it so far down your throat that tears will fall down your pretty cheeks?’

I nod, my eyes on his as I get lost in the intensity of his words.

‘Lass, you do know how to turn a man’s fantasies to life,’ he continues, his eyes the deepest shade of black as he regards me. ‘And when I’m done, I’ll fuck you in a room surrounded by all these paintings so you can see yourself taken in all ways as I lay claim to your sweet body again and again. What do you say, Lizzie mine?’ he drawls dangerously, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he looks at me with the same predatory hunger I’d seen on his face from the beginning.

Will this ever abate, I wonder? This volcanic desire I feel inside of me—that he feels?

Years pass, and I find myself wanting him more and more, never less.

‘Yes,’ I breathe out. ‘Yes, Amon, yes!’

Anything for him.

Being with him for so long, I’ve found that no act is wrong, no desire forbidden. I’m always willing to push my limits for him just as I push his. In our bedroom, it’s only us. Only ever us and the love we have for one another that translates into an insatiable desire that burns stronger every single time.

‘My darling girl. Show me how deep you take me,’ he rasps as he brings his cock to my lips again, pushing it in my mouth.

I open wide as I take him in, letting him thrust into me until his ring hits the back of my throat. Gagging, I look up just as my lashes dampen with unshed tears, my gaze on his just as his pencil hits the blank canvas, his strokes quick and masterful.

‘Gods, you take me so good,’ he praises. ‘Your mouth was made for my cock just like my cock was made for you, darling girl. Made to claim every fucking inch of your body.’

His hips tilt, rocking into me as he feeds me as much of his length as he can fit into my mouth. Still, I don’t make a sound even when he is too deep. I let him use me as he wants—as I know he needs.

Lips parted, his eyes are half-lidded as he breathes harshly, fucking my mouth while laying down the contours of my form on the canvas.

‘That’s it, Lizzie,’ he rasps, and once the first sketch is finalized, he materializes the canvas and the pencil out of his hands and on the table opposite the bed. Suddenly, his hands are on my face, cupping gently as he pulls out all the way, wetness dripping all over his length as he lets the ring cling to my lips.

‘You’re so beautiful, love,’ he murmurs as he strokes my hair. ‘So fucking beautiful and all mine,’ he says before he pushes his cock inside my mouth again, the thrust shallow.

I extend my tongue, licking the underside every time he pushes it in my mouth.

My eyes are on his face as I admire every slight change in expression, every twitch in his jaw and the grind of his teeth—everything that tells me how much I affect him.

‘Good girl,’ he rumbles. ‘My very special girl.’

‘More,’ I whisper as I lick him fervently. ‘Use me, Amon. Fill me up and use me for your pleasure.’

‘When you say things like that, Lizzie mine,’ he moans as he squeezes his eyes shut. ‘You inflame me,’ he confesses. ‘You fucking make me lose all reason until there’s only you. My good, good girl who is only bad for me, isn’t that right?’

‘Yes,’ I admit unabashedly. ‘I’m only bad for you. I’ll only ever be bad for you,’ I moan as I wrap my hands tightly around him, sucking the head into my mouth before allowing him to fuck me as he wants—wildly and out of control.

His hands go down to my throat, circling my neck in a light hold as he starts thrusting. Slow at first, he gains more and more speed, grunting as the head of his cock reaches the tight space at the back of my throat.

I hum lightly around his cock, the vibrations giving him additional pleasure.

‘That’s my bad girl,’ his breath catches in his throat as he throws his head back. ‘Fucking hell, Lizzie mine. You own me. You fucking own me. Body and soul and everything else that I am,’ he mumbles, almost incoherently.

Moving my hands to his ass, I let him fully take control as he chases his pleasure.

God, how I love it when he uses me like this, when I’m the only thing that can make him feel good—a medium through which he can reach his peak. And as I lose myself in his features, I forget all about gagging or choking or the tears that fall unbidden down my red cheeks. There’s only him before me.

Amon.

My lover, my protector and my master.

For him I would do anything. For his happiness, I’m capable of anything.

One hand remains tightened around my neck while the other goes up, tangling in my hair and pulling my head back.

His eyes collide with mine as blackness stains the white of his eyes until everything is black. Dark currents surround us as he watches me, a mix of lust, want, and unyielding tension that tells me just who is in control.

I may have fooled myself into thinking I was the one leading this, but that role belongs entirely to him.

‘Just like that. Suck on it like the bad girl you are, Lizzie—my bad girl.’

Just as I think he’s going to come, he suddenly pulls out of my mouth.

I inhale sharply through my mouth, dragging a harsh breath into my lungs just as he pushes my hands aside.

My eyes widen, yet it’s not in shock but pure anticipation as I cannot wait to see what he’s going to do next.

His left hand curves alongside my neck, palming my nape as he holds me tightly to him. His other hand grips the base of his cock, bringing the length against my face as he smears all the wetness on my skin.

‘How bad will you be today, Lizzie mine?’ he asks me in a hypnotic voice. ‘Tell me, where should I come?’

His arresting gaze has me pinned to the spot and I find myself at a loss of words, simply staring into his beautiful features ravaged by the most extreme lust.

He slaps his shaft lightly across my cheek and my lips. His mouth has an arrogant tilt as he taunts me with the promise of his release.

‘Should I come down your throat?’ he drawls, pushing an inch of his cock between my lips. He only lets me give him a couple licks before he moves. ‘Should I come on your beautiful face?’ he continues, dragging the tip across my face. ‘Or,’ he pauses as he licks his lips. ‘Should I come on your lovely tits?’

I gasp at his question, but before I know it, his fingers tighten over my nape and he looms dangerously close to my face.

He licks my lips, giving me a maddening kiss before he pulls back—too, too fast.

‘Cup your tits, Lizzie. Hold them for me and play with your nipples,’ he suddenly commands.

Though the thick fog of awareness makes it hard for me to think straight, I slowly bring my hands to my breasts, squeezing them before I pinch my nipples.

His features darken.

‘Fucking hell,’ he curses, his eyes glued to my chest as he strokes his cock in slow, languorous movements.

Arching my back as I thrust my breasts forward, he takes advantage of the position to slip the head of his cock between the valley of my breasts.

My breath hitches as I feel him there, and bringing my breasts together, I create a tight and hot environment for him as he starts thrusting.

‘That’s it, my bad Lizzie,’ he rasps.

‘Amon,’ I moan as I touch myself while he takes his pleasure from my body. ‘Come on me. Everywhere,’ I breathe out. ‘Cover me in your seed.’

‘Ahhh, Lizzie mine. You want to feel me everywhere, don’t you? You want to smell of me everywhere you go so no one can ever doubt who you belong to,’ he pauses on a groan as he increases the rhythm of his thrusts.

I keep my breasts together for him, and when he releases his hold on my neck, I dip my chin down, licking him every time he surges forward.

A string of curses are wrenched out of his mouth as my teeth catch his ring, holding it in my mouth for a moment before opening my lips over the tip of his cock and sucking.

‘You’re so fucking hot,’ he moans harshly, his features tight as his climax builds. ‘I just need to look at you and those fucking pouty lips of yours and I’m about to burst, Lizzie. You drive me so fucking insane with want,’ he rasps. ‘You’re my fucking madness, the fever in my blood, a never fucking ending psychosis that leaves me breathless, helpless and so fucking weak with want for you.’

His words arouse me to no end and when he rips himself from me with a biting curse, I present myself to him.

‘I’m your canvas,’ I whisper, my fingers on my nipples. ‘Paint me, Amon. Paint me,’ I moan as I meet his crazed gaze with my dazed one.

He furiously works his cock, his grip tight as his muscles tense with his impending release.

Ready to receive everything that he is, I drag myself closer to the edge of the bed just in time for the first spurts of cum to hit my face before going lower to my neck and chest.

He comes so hard in never-ending jets of cum as he marks me all over. His grunts become louder as he paints my entire front in his seed, turning me into his very own canvas, his creation.

‘Just like that, Lizzie mine. Take my cum. Take everything that I am,’ he grinds out as he finishes.

‘Yes,’ I reply in a breathless voice.

There are still a few drops hanging on to the tip, so I lean forward to catch them with my tongue, sucking him in and cleaning every inch of his cock.

He’s barely in control of himself, his breathing harsh, his eyes still full of lust.

Giving him a come hither look, I lean back, falling on my elbows. Still holding his gaze, I bring one finger to where he’d come on my face, swirling the semi-white liquid all around my flesh before dipping my fully coated finger in my mouth.

I do the same with the remaining seed on my neck, but when I reach my breasts he suddenly stops me.

Gathering his cum with his own thicker, bigger fingers, he brings them to my mouth, pushing every last drop inside my mouth.

But just as I think I have his trajectory figured out, he surprises me by flinging my legs over his shoulders and burying his head between my legs.

His tongue connects with my bundle of nerves and I barely keep myself from jumping out. I’m already overstimulated that even one touch can set me off.

‘You’re so fucking wet,’ he growls against my center. ‘All for me,’ he hums as he catches my bud between his teeth.

‘Yes. Oh, Amon,’ I writhe under him.

‘All from sucking my cock. Because you’re a bad, bad girl who gets off on being face-fucked by her mate,’ he rasps, blowing hot air against my wet slit.

‘Yes. Yes. Yes,’ I mumble incoherently.

I only need two flicks of his tongue and I’m already coming, squeezing him tightly between my legs as my hands find their way to his hair, gripping tight as I scream his name.

The orgasm is so powerful, I barely catch my breath as I fall against the crisp sheets, too worn out to do anything.

‘Lizzie mine, Lizzie mine,’ he whispers against my inner thigh before he continues to lap at me.

‘I-I can’t…’ I wheeze out. But he isn’t deterred. He’s determined to wring everything out of me until I’m a quivering mess—until I can’t even utter another word.

My eyes snap shut and before I know it, sleep claims me.

I don’t know how much later I wake up, but when I open my eyes, I find myself completely cleaned up—the sweetheart must have given me a bath while I was out. Amon is sitting on the chair opposite to the bed.

He’s still naked. Dipping his brush into his color palette, he brings it to the canvas in elegant, smooth strokes.

‘You’re awake?’ He raises a brow, an arrogant smirk playing at his lips.

‘How many times did you make me come?’ I yawn languidly as I get out of bed, pulling a robe over my body.

‘You passed out on the fourth,’ he chuckles. ‘I think you need more practice, Mrs. Creed,’ he winks at me.

‘I rather like Mrs. d’Artan better,’ I quip as I make my way to his side.

‘What’s in a name, love,’ he murmurs lovingly as he lays a kiss to the top of my head. ‘You would be mine under any other name. Just like I would be yours.’

My lips tip up in a smile, but as I take in his painting, I can’t help but gasp.

‘That is…’ I trail off, suddenly at a loss of words. ‘You made me so beautiful,’ I whisper.

‘You are beautiful. But with my cock in your mouth…’ he whistles suggestively.

I chuckle, swatting him playfully as I continue to study his work.

He’d painted us perfectly as I lay naked before him, my lips wrapped around his cock and my eyes on him—always on him.

‘You’re so talented,’ I praise sincerely.

He merely grunts.

For a fearsome general such as he, his passion for painting had not been something he’d been able to indulge at will. Not until he’d gotten here.

Not until us.

I feel sad that this world will never know his talent, but he insists on making me the subject of all his paintings, and given the intimate nature of the poses, neither he, nor I would ever want these made public.

They are for our eyes only. For our enjoyment.

Later in the afternoon, the children come back from their little ocean adventure and we set about preparing for the celebration that will take place the following day when our tiny village will finally be upgraded to the designation of town with a new name.

Fairydale.

The town council had come together to vote on it, and to my dismay, everyone had wanted to name it Fairydale for Amon and I and the help we’ve lent to the people of the area.

It won’t just be a celebration of the town, but it will also be a personal one for us.

We finally belong somewhere!

Unfortunately, the future will be challenging. It’s been almost fifteen years since we’ve moved here, and considering that neither Amon, nor I, have grown any older, people are bound to start asking questions at some point.

When we decided to have a family and raise our children here, we had to consider the implications, and so we came to the agreement that once Lydia is settled at her home, we would take some years and travel around the globe before returning with new identities.

Amon has already taken his aging role seriously, and has slowly renounced his darker hair in favor of white, his natural hair color.

The following morning, we all wake up early in preparation for the town fair.

Giving Amon a quick kiss on the lips, I leave him to deal with the boys while I go help Lydia dress.

To my great surprise, instead of finding her still abed and hard to get her out of bed, she’s already up and spry.

‘Mommy, mommy,’ she squeals when she sees me, jumping straight in my arms.

‘You’re rather cheerful this morning, aren’t you?’ I chuckle as I kiss both her cheeks.

‘It’s the fair. Of course I’m happy. I can’t wait to see the sign, and I want to eat some yummy food.’

‘You’re saying it as if we don’t give you any yummy food.’

‘Well,’ she pauses, deep in thought. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that food on special occasions tastes better than the same food on normal days.’

‘You’re so witty, aren’t you?’ I pat her head affectionately as I open her closet, asking her what she’d like to wear.

‘Lydia?’ I repeat when I see she doesn’t reply.

She’s deadly still next to me, and immediately, my worry mounts.

Going to my knees, I take her cheeks in my palms, looking her all over.

‘Didi, baby, what’s wrong?’

Her eyes are out of focus even as she looks at me.

‘He will wait for you. At the Old Church, he will wait for you. He will always wait for you.’

What? What Old Church? There is only one church in the village, down the hill from our home.

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she recovers, blinking as she takes me in.

Immediately I realize that she likely had a vision, though she’s never reacted like this before.

Since she started speaking, she would always blurt out things that never happened or that were not real and we didn’t know what to make of them. That was until they did come to pass and we realized it was her gift that was manifesting through visions of the future.

‘Lydia, baby, who will wait for me?’ I ask softly.

‘Papa,’ she answer, a sad smile on her face. ‘He will wait for you to defeat the bad people and save him.’

‘Me?’ I smile. ‘I’ll save him?’

She nods.

‘But I’m not there,’ she suddenly says, and her face falls.

‘Didi…’ I trail off, pulling her into my arms. ‘Don’t say that. We’ll always be together, you know that,’ I tell her gently.

‘We won’t,’ she replies. ‘But it’s fine, mommy. You have a more important mission to fulfill,’ she adds ambiguously.

Just as I’m about to question her some more, she jumps out of my arms, going to her closet and rummaging for a dress to wear.

I try to plaster on a smile, though her words worry me.

My Didi has never been a normal child. The visions she has affect the way she interacts with the world, often giving her a far more mature and jaded outlook than she should have for her years.

When my mother heard about her gift she was beside herself with happiness. She even visited once a few years back, but since she has remarried she’s been more preoccupied with her marital life than with the coven. For the first time, I think she’s truly in love and has found someone who cherishes her just as much.

‘This one,’ she takes out a pretty yellow gown.

I smile appreciatively at her choice.

‘Let’s put it on, then.’

I help her into her gown, after which I spend some time doing her hair, plaiting it in a simple braid. Since she’d seen me wear mine like that, she’d demanded I do hers too in the same manner.

‘Look how pretty you are,’ I gush when she’s done.

‘I love it,’ she declares, putting on her shoes and telling me she’s ready to go.

Shaking my head at her amusement, I take her hand as we head downstairs.

Amon is deep in conversation with Abraham while Abel is a few paces away.

I purse my lips at the sight, not liking that Abel is always keeping himself separate from the family.

While Lydia considers us her parents, Abraham and Abel remember their real parents, we would have never asked them to forget them and accept us instead. Yet whereas Abraham had embraced our family, and as of a few years back had started calling Amon father and me mother, Abel had not.

Though he has his good moments, he is always distant, preferring to spend his time in town, or going to Ipswich rather than be with his family.

Lately, though, his visits home have become even rarer.

Maybe he has a girl he’s seeing in Ipswich?

He is already twenty, so it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to court someone. But he hadn’t told me anything when I probed a few weeks back.

And if he is semi-engaging with me, with Amon he’s even worse.

Luckily, Amon has the patience of a saint because every attempt to get closer to Abel has blown in his face. Even so, he never quit. He always tried to find a way to include him in activities and converse with him.

‘Are you ready, boys?’ I call out as we near the landing of the stairs.

‘Abraham,’ Lydia exclaims as she runs towards her older brother.

He takes her in his arms, laying a kiss on her temple.

‘You’re so pretty today, Didi,’ he murmurs.

‘You think so? I like this dress so much.’

‘You’re the prettiest princess,’ Amon leans in to give her a kiss, too.

Abel snickers from the side, and I fear he’s going to ruin today as usual. Amon gives him a reproachful look and he huffs at him before walking ahead of us.

Unfortunately, it’s not only his relationship with us that is strained. He’s not particularly close to his siblings, either, though he is at least more courteous.

I know he loves Lydia in his own way, but he isn’t very demonstrative, preferring to keep to himself. Abraham, on the other hand, couldn’t be more different.

He’s the sweetest boy and he’s made me and Amon extremely proud by graduating from Harvard with a degree in classics and apprenticing for a lawyer in Boston. He’s already set to start his own practice in the future. Despite having a title waiting for him in England, he’s decided to make America his home for good.

Amon, in particular, has been extremely happy with Abraham’s choice, and as a subject they both enjoy, they’ve dedicated evenings to debates and animated discussions.

‘You look wonderful, mama,’ Abraham says as he gives me a kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you, dear,’ I smile. ‘You look dashing, too. You’re going to see Annie, aren’t you?’ I wink at him.

He reddens, giving us a brief nod.

‘You need to make the courage and propose,’ Amon says. ‘She needs to know you’re serious about her.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ Abraham pushes his chin up. ‘I’m going to visit her parents on Monday.’

My eyes widen in surprise just as Amon claps him on the back, congratulating him.

‘You’ve grown so much,’ I blink my tears away, unable to believe my baby is already at a marriageable age. ‘I’m so, so proud of you.’

‘Thank you, mama,’ he smiles.

‘Shall we?’ Amon motions to the door.

Abel is already far ahead of us, almost as if he didn’t want to associate himself with us.

‘I’m surprised he came,’ Abraham nods towards his brother.

‘Honestly, me too,’ I sigh, wondering where we went wrong with him. ‘Didn’t he rent some lodgings in Ipswich? You know more about him than us,’ I add on a sad note.

‘Barely. Other than the few times he randomly decides to come home, I have no idea what he’s up to. He didn’t even show up for Didi’s birthday,’ he presses his lips in a flat line that shows his disapproval.

Abraham is very protective of Lydia—has been from the moment she was born—whereas Abel as always had a more independent streak, preferring to do everything on his own, Abraham had been content to rely on us, both for company and for advice whenever he needed it.

In a way, I am almost glad that Abel isn’t as close to Lydia, though that makes me feel like such a bad mother. Yet I wouldn’t want him to influence her with his negativity.

He’s made his distaste towards us quite clear. I wouldn’t like him to poison Lydia’s mind, too. The last thing I’d ever want is for my daughter to believe his propaganda and alienate herself from us as a result.

‘He’s a loner. We shouldn’t try to impose on him too much,’ I add weakly. ‘He’s also a grown man now and can make his own choices.’

Amon is watching Abel closely, his expression tinged by sadness.

‘At least he comes home every now and then,’ he finally says.

‘My love,’ I whisper, taking his hand and squeezing hard.

He sees Abel’s behavior as his own failure, and though Abel often behaves in an impetuous manner, Amon always finds excuses for him and tries to not punish him too much.

‘You’re too soft on him, papa. He needs to understand that he won’t get anywhere with that type of behavior. More than anything, he needs to know that family is family. We have to stick together.’

‘You’re so right,’ I nod.

Lydia jumps out of Abraham’s arms as she finds her way between me and Amon, taking our hands and firmly plastering herself in the middle.

We all laugh at her antics, and the noise prompts Abel to look back.

At the same time, my eyes connect with his and I note a flash of yearning on his face—one that makes my heart hurt.

At that moment, I resolve that I shall have a conversation with him. Maybe there is still time to solve our differences before he leaves and gets married as well.

It takes us some twenty minutes to reach the newly minted town square, but we opt to walk the distance as we talk and banter, getting in the mood for the upcoming festivities.

As soon as we reach the area, the music resounds in the air from the people who’d decided to take their instruments out and help with the atmosphere.

Amon had also donated a piano for the pastor’s son who had learned to play, and he is leading the local orchestra.

There are stalls of food and other services, almost as if this were a veritable international festival.

We stop by a few of them as we buy Lydia some dessert before the elected mayor clears the space to give his little speech. He does us great honor by including our names in his acknowledgements and declares the town hereby named Fairydale.

As soon as the announcement is over, the music starts anew, as does the dancing.

Couples hurry in the middle of the square, getting together and moving to the music.

‘Let’s dance,’ Lydia tugs on our hands.

Giving Amon a look, I wink at him and push him forward as he takes his daughter for a dance.

He’s so tall and she’s so small that the size discrepancy is absolutely hilarious.

‘Dance with me, mama?’ Abraham comes to my side, taking my hand in his.

‘Of course,’ I immediately agree as we join Amon and Lydia on the dance floor.

They are both laughing and after some time Amon takes her in his arms, dancing with her like that.

My lips pull up in a content smile as I hug my son to my chest.

‘Are you really fine with me proposing to Annie? I know she’s not of our station and…’

‘Nonsense, dear,’ I cut him off. ‘You should know that I, more than anyone, have no care for stations or conventions. Do you love her?’

He gives me a confident nod.

‘Does she love you?’

Another equally certain nod.

‘Then you know what to do. I only want you to be happy, dear. If that is with Annie, then so be it,’ I give him a smile.

‘Thank you. I wasn’t sure whether you and papa were going to agree to the match.’

‘Your father wants you to be happy as much as I do, and he’s known about your feelings for a while now. He was just wondering when you were going to give us the big news.’

‘I’m hoping for a quick wedding so I can take Annie with me to Boston in the spring,’ he tells me, explaining his plans for the future and the fact that he’d done his best to make contacts in the city to help him with his future law cabinet.

‘That sounds fabulous. I’m so proud of you and how you’ve thought this all out,’ I praise him gently, my heart swelling in my chest.

God, my son is about to get married and move to his own home. I can’t believe how the years have passed.

‘If you need any help, you know you can count on us, right? Not just money. Anything at all,’ I assure him.

His lips spread into a big smile.

‘I know, mama. I know. I love you,’ he tells me as he gives me a tight hug.

I can barely contain my tears.

‘I love you, too, son. All of you are my joy.’

We dance as we make more small talk, steering away from the serious topics and giving into merriment. By chance, though, I spot Abel at the other side of the square, deep in conversation with someone.

‘Do you know who Abel is talking to?’ I ask Abraham.

He turns to look in Abel’s direction and he frowns.

‘Isn’t that the mayor’s son?’

‘Is he? I didn’t recognize him,’ I say vaguely.

I hadn’t realized Abel had any connections here, but I’m happy if he made friends.

The first dance ends, and Abraham ends up swooping Didi in his arms for the next one while I wink at Amon, beckoning him to my side.

Just as he reaches me, though, Abel is also here.

‘Would you do me the honor of a dance?’ he asks.

Amon purses his lips but gives me an encouraging nod. He’s probably thinking, just as I am, that this is the first time Abel has reached out like this and we shouldn’t refuse him.

Amon takes a step back, watching us like a hawk as I let Abel lead me back to the dance.

‘We were all surprised you came today,’ I speak first in an attempt to break the ice.

His features are tense, his body stiff. As he looks down at me, his mouth curls at the corners in a barely disguised sneer.

‘I came,’ he shrugs.

‘Abel…’ I take a deep breath. ‘I know we haven’t always been on good terms, but you know you will always have a place with us. I told that to your brother too. It doesn’t matter if you move out or start your own family. We’ll always be here.’

‘And my spineless brother probably agreed, didn’t he? Because he’s such a pussy he can’t think for himself without the help of father dearest.’

‘Abel!’ My eyes widen, scandalized at his words. ‘How can you speak like that about your brother?’

‘Because it’s the truth. I don’t blame Lydia since she’s young, but you two managed to turn my own brother against me.’

‘You… You’re accusing us of turning Abraham against you? How in God’s name did you get that notion? We’ve never done such a thing. On the contrary, we’ve always tried to be there for you…’

‘Cut the crap, mommy,’ he snarls, his expression darkening. ‘You think I don’t know everything? That I don’t know your secret?‘

‘What… What are you talking about?’ my voice trembles as I ask.

His eyes scan my face, his upper lip twitching.

‘I’ve lived with you for ten years and in all this time you haven’t gained one line on your face. As a matter of fact, your husband hasn’t either, despite his white hair. He’s what, forty something, yet doesn’t look a day over twenty-five?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I whisper.

‘Of course you don’t. Grandma told us all about the family legacy, but she didn’t tell me that you have some age-defying abilities. Or, do you?’

‘I think this is enough for today,’ Amon cuts in, taking Abel’s hand off me.

He’s a head taller than the boy, and as he gives him a scathing look, Abel has no recourse than back off.

‘You’re shaking,’ Amon says as he draws me into his arms.

‘He… He…’ The shock is too great and for a few moments, I cannot find my words. When I’ve calmed down a little, I tell Amon all about our conversation.

‘Do you think that’s why he resents us?’

Amon shakes his head.

‘I’ll have a talk with him.’

‘Don’t be too harsh,’ I wet my lips as I look into his eyes. ‘He’s still our son.’

‘I know, Lizzie, I know,’ he sighs. ‘I love him, too, but that doesn’t mean we have to accept his behavior. Especially since it might be harmful for his siblings.’

‘You’re right,’ I nod.

Resting my head on his chest, I let him sway me to the music as I turn my attention to where Abraham and Didi are dancing. She’s giggling at something Abraham said, grinning to her ears.

I wrap my arms around Amon’s waist as I hold tight, needing his body heat and the support of his presence.

‘Don’t be sad, Lizzie mine. I’ll find a way to fix this,’ he murmurs in my hair.

As always, if Amon says he will fix it, I know he will. After all, he’d never disappointed me in the past.

The celebration lasts another few hours and Amon is invited to the make-shift stage to give a small speech, which he dedicates to me, making me blush from head to toe.

Yet as everything comes to an end, we all start walking home for dinner.

Luckily, I’d asked Esther, our cook, to have the food ready for a later hour.

When we arrive home, I just ask her to bring it to the dining room, which she obliges right away.

‘I missed having these events as a family,’ I say as I look around the table. Everyone is present, even Abel, who’d surprised us once more by coming home with us and sitting down for dinner.

‘May I have more potatoes?’ Didi bats her lashes at me.

‘Who did you learn that from?’ I chuckle as I add more potatoes to her plate.

‘You,’ she says pointedly. ‘You always do this when papa is around and he does whatever you say, isn’t that true?’ She looks at Amon to confirm her words.

My eyes widen as I turn to him too.

His lips are curled up as he barely keeps his amusement in check.

‘She is right, you know,’ he shrugs. ‘You only need to give me one of those looks and I’m your servant.’

A little embarrassed, and quite scandalized, I move my gaze between the two of them.

‘You two are conspiring together against me, aren’t you?’

‘Who? Us?’ Amon puts his hands up, just as Didi does the same.

Letting out a small laugh, I shake my head at their antics.

‘How about this then,’ I suddenly straighten my back. ‘May I have another glass of wine, darling?’ I ask as I lean into him and bat my lashes.

‘See, this is exactly how it’s done,’ he says in a serious voice as he fills my glass to the brim.

We all laugh—all but Abel, that is, who is watching us with unrestrained disdain.

I try to ignore it for the rest of the dinner, though it doesn’t help the heavy feeling I have in my heart.

‘Let’s retire to the drawing room. We can play some card games, what do you all say?’ I clasp my hands together as I address them after dinner.

Everyone but Abel agrees. Seeing him go out, Amon follows to have a talk with him.

‘Come, let’s start without them,’ I tell Didi as the three of us make our way to the drawing room.

Just as Lydia takes a seat next to me, though, she grabs my hand, holding it in a deadly grip.

‘Don’t give it to him,’ she whispers. ‘Don’t give it to him, please.’

‘What…’

Turning towards me, she gives me the saddest smile I’ve ever seen as she launches herself at me, hugging me tightly.

‘It’s not your fault, mama. Please don’t blame yourself. I will be fine. Even if it hurts, I will be fine.’

‘Didi, what are you talking about?’ I ask, suddenly worried. ‘What hurts? What happened? What did you see?’

She shakes her head slowly.

‘I love you, Abraham. You’re the best brother ever,’ she suddenly tells him, taking him by surprise.

‘I am?’ He looks taken aback before he amends. ‘I love you, too, moppet.’

‘Why don’t you play with him for a little bit while I find your father,’ I tell her gently as I try to hide the storm that’s building inside of me.

To say that her words scare me, would be an understatement. I am certain she saw something bad and she won’t share it with me.

Rising up, I give both of them a small smile as I head towards Amon’s study.

I don’t reach it, though, as I’m stopped by an echoed voice down the hall—Abel’s voice.

‘I want to see you tell Elizabeth the truth then. Tell her,’ he taunts. ‘Tell her how you killed my parents, because I know it was you,’ he accuses.

My hand flies to my mouth in shock.

‘You don’t understand, Abel,’ Amon tries to intervene, but Abel doesn’t let him speak as he continues.

‘You forget one small detail, papa. I was there that night. I saw the accident and everything that happened. I saw you.’

‘You couldn’t have seen anything, Abel…’

The voices drown out as a loud thud signals the door closing.

Fearing I’ll be found eavesdropping I turn away, yet I’m barely able to process what I’d heard.

It’s preposterous. Ludicrous even.

Where would Abel have gotten the idea that Amon was behind Olivia and Jonathan’s deaths?

He couldn’t have.

Could he?

Three days later and I haven’t been able to move on from what I’d heard.

It’s not that I don’t trust my husband—or so I tell myself. It’s that I know he would be capable of that. To please me, I know he would do it.

On top of that, I am exhausted from putting up my mental defenses so he doesn’t see what bothers me. At least not until I get a better grip on my emotions.

That day, early in the morning, I decide to leave the house for a moment and be on my own with my thoughts. But since there is nowhere else I can go, I make a visit to the church.

Surprisingly enough, it is empty.

As I allow myself inside, my eyes drift to the organ at the end of the aisles, and before I know it, my feet take me in that direction.

Sitting down, I tentatively place my fingers on the keys, the rich sound reverberating in the entire church.

There’s a melancholic quality to it in the way the bass fills my entire being, yet I’m at a point where not even music can help the turmoil in my heart.

Could Amon have done something like that? Otherwise why would Abel accuse him of it?

It is true that he’d been the only one to survive the carriage accident that claimed the lives of my sister and her husband, but he’d never once intimated that it was something else.

That Amon could have been guilty of it.

Yet I still can’t believe he would do it.

He’d promised me he would never hurt my family. And my Amon would never go back on his promise. Of that I am absolutely sure.

Yes, I nod to myself as I continue playing.

It’s senseless to accuse Amon of that since there is no way he would do it.

Abel must have been mistaken.

At the same time, why would he accuse Amon now? Is this a new strategy of creating a rift in the family?

A tired sigh escapes me, all the regret piling up.

Dear God, but where did we go wrong with him?

Why would he hate us so much when we’ve only wanted to offer him love and a family?

What could we have possibly done that he hates us so much?

Tears trickle down my cheeks as I remember him growing up and becoming more and more distant until even the polite words he’d say to appease us had turned into veiled insults. Every time he would say something like that he would break my heart a little more each time.

Yet now? To go as far as to accuse Amon of such a heinous crime?

It’s clear I have to do something about it. I’d never want that type of rumors to reach Didi’s ears, or put any semblance of doubt into Abraham.

I’m lost in my own thoughts and I barely recognize there’s another presence in the church.

Turning to the entrance, I see my husband tentatively walk inside.

‘Lizzie?’ he asks softly.

My fingers falter on the keys.

‘Why are you crying? What’s happening?’ he comes forward, his voice anguished as he regards me.

I shake my head lightly.

But as I regard him, doubts assail me once more.

‘Amon,’ I wet my lips. ‘I have one question, and please answer truthfully.’

He blinks in surprise.

Dear Lord, but I feel guilty just thinking about this, but uttering it out loud? Somehow that wills it into existence—both the doubts and the allegations.

‘I heard you arguing with Abel a few days ago,’ I start, fully turning to him and fidgeting with my fingers in my lap.

His eyes flare with alarm.

‘What did you hear?’ he speaks slowly, methodically.

As I look at him, though, I can recognize the signs of distress. God, I know this man better than I know myself.

‘Why was Abel saying that you killed Olivia and Jonathan? Where would he even get that idea?’

He’s still looking me in the eye, not answering. Just…watching me.

‘Lizzie…’ he whispers, and something inside his voice scares me. Something about this entire encounter scares me more than anything.

‘Amon,’ I gasp. ‘Tell me the truth, please.’

‘Lizzie mine, you know I would do anything for you,’ he says as he stops in front of me.

Dropping to his knees, he takes my hands in his, bringing them to his lips and laying kisses all over.

‘I would do anything for you,’ he repeats, the emphasis unmistakable.

‘You promised you would never lie to me,’ I tell him as more tears accumulate in the corners of my eyes.

He gives me a pained nod.

‘You also promised you would never hurt my family,’ I continue, and his features darken.

‘Please tell me the truth,’ I whisper. ‘Did you have anything to do with Olivia and Jonathan’s deaths?’ I ask, dreading saying the words out loud.

Yet the pain on his face is unmistakable.

He squeezes my hands, bringing them to his heart.

‘Trust me that I had no other alternative,’ he speaks slowly, yet I cannot hear anything more than the confirmation of what I would have thought inconceivable.

‘You killed them…’ I repeat, averting my gaze.

‘Lizzie, please…’

I swallow hard as a thick lump forms in my throat. Pain radiates from my chest, my mind blanking on me as I’m sure this isn’t happening.

It cannot be happening.

My husband, my beloved husband, would never do something to hurt me.

‘Please leave,’ I croak, wanting to be alone before I break into a thousand pieces.

‘I can’t do that, you know it. I can never leave your side.’

‘Please… I… I need time. I need you far away from me, Amon. Please, just this time,’ I mumble incoherently, the pain slowly unfurling and becoming far too much than I can handle.

‘Let me explain what happened,’ he protests but I shake my head.

‘Not now. I can’t… I can’t even look at you, Amon,’ I tell him as a sob breaks through. ‘I need space. Time. Please…’

‘Promise me we’ll talk. That you’ll let me explain. Please!’

I nod absentmindedly.

‘Go,’ I whisper.

He backs away a few steps but falters as he freezes on the spot, his eyes on me, his expression more anguished than I’ve ever seen it.

For a few moments he just stares at me before he gives me a pained nod, disappearing from my sight.

Unable to hold the tears at bay anymore, I bury my face in my hands as I let everything out.

My marriage, the only thing I’d thought most secure, is now no longer so secure.

He’d promised me. He’d…

Sobs rack my body as I fall down the chair and onto the floor, gathering my knees to my chest as I continue to cry out in an attempt to exorcize all this disappointment and pain that flickers in my chest.

The worst thing?

It’s been ten years and he’d never once thought to tell me. Never once did he think I deserved to know. And if I hadn’t overheard that conversation, he likely would have never told me.

Good Lord.

My own husband killed my sister and her husband. He killed our children’s parents.

How could he…

The more I think about it, the more I break out in tears, my heart unable to find any mercy from the onslaught of emotions that are slowly destroying me.

Is this why Abel has hated us from the beginning? Because he’d witnessed Amon at the scene?

Somehow that pains me even more.

No child should see his parents murdered, and by the man who was to become his new guardian.

God, but how must he have felt all these years living with us?

How could he have borne it?

For the first time, I understand why he’d always be so distant. Why he would prefer to go far away rather than be with his family.

He didn’t want to be in the same room as his parents’ murderer.

‘How could you do this, Amon,’ I whisper softly, my heart breaking bit by bit. ‘How could you hurt me so badly?’

A sudden noise startles me from my thoughts. Whipping my head up, I note the door to the church opens again, and I quickly dab at my eyes.

Getting up from the floor, I wobble a few steps before I realize who it is that entered the church.

Abel and Abraham.

‘We were looking for you, mama,’ Abraham comes forward. ‘What’s wrong?’ he immediately asks when he sees my red face and tear-streaked eyes.

I slowly shake my head.

‘What happened?’ he asks as he takes me in his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest.

‘It’s nothing,’ I whisper. ‘Just a minor disagreement between me and your father.’

‘It doesn’t look little to me,’ he frowns as he draws back.

I do my best to not let my heartbreak show, forcing on a smile and patting his shoulder affectionately.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll work it out between ourselves.’

As I raise my gaze, my eyes connect with Abel’s behind Abraham.

He’s looking at me intently, almost as if he was privy to every secret I ever held.

‘How are you Abel?’ I ask, feeling like a goddamn impostor as I do.

‘I wanted to come check on you with Abraham,’ he says glibly.

I frown, assessing him thoughtfully.

There’s a sinister air about him, his mouth curled in a derisive smile, his eyes glinting with hidden intention.

‘I am quite fine, thank you,’ I nod as I let Abraham hold me, rejoicing at the little comfort I find in his arms.

Yet my true comfort is far away—not only the cure to my heart but also the poison that dances in my veins.

In all these years, we never fought. We never had a disagreement. We lived in such perfect harmony, that I became one with him just as he became one with me.

To have that ripped apart? To realize I’ve been living a lie? To exist as a sole entity instead of a united one?

It’s not just the news that Amon had something to do with Olivia and Jonathan’s deaths that guts me. It’s the fact that for ten years he’s been lying to me, making everything we lived together a lie.

And to my great shame, the disappointment at his deception trumps the pain of losing my sister. I am a horrible human being, am I not? That alone makes me too ashamed to look my sons in the face.

‘You found out, didn’t you?’ he taunts as he sees the emotions play on my face.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I reply weakly, my hands trembling with fear.

The last thing I want is to discuss this problem here, and with Abraham present, too.

‘We should tell good ol’ Abraham, too,’ he offers, a malicious smile pulling at his lips.

‘Maybe we should talk. Just the two of us. Will you let us for a moment, Abraham?’ I ask softly of my eldest son.

He looks in confusion between the two of us, nodding reluctantly.

I breathe out in relief that he doesn’t question my decision, yet I’m still wary about discussing this with Abel.

‘No,’ Abel declares. ‘He needs to hear this too.’

‘What’s happening?’ Abraham’s brows are pinched together as he addresses me.

‘I…’ I stammer, suddenly at a loss of words. ‘You should go,’ I urge softly—anything to have him away from this confrontation.

‘Our parents’ accident wasn’t quite an accident, was it?’ Abel smirks.

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘Your brother and I need to have a conversation. It’s better if you go,’ I repeat, true terror taking shape within my breast.

As Abraham starts to move, Abel jumps in front of him, his eyes crazed.

‘Tell him, Elizabeth! Tell him who killed them.’

I shake my head at him.

‘Please don’t…’

He throws back his head and laughs at my fearful expression.

‘What are you saying, Abel? You know it was an accident,’ Abraham argues.

‘It wasn’t!’ he spits out. ‘It was all her husband, who isn’t even a bloody human,’ he accuses, his eyes flaring with disgust as he looks at me.

‘Abel…’

‘What is he talking about, mama?’

‘Jeremiah Creed doesn’t exist, brother. He never did,’ he continues, seemingly taking great pleasure in revealing everything to Abraham.

I freeze at his words.

How… How would he know?

‘Her husband’s real name is Amon and he is a demon. A fucking demon who killed our parents and disguised it as an accident. A demon who’s been killing people for centuries!’

‘Abel, please…’ I mumble in an attempt to stop him.

‘Tell us. Tell us it isn’t true,’ he adds smugly as he places a hand on Abraham’s shoulder.

Abraham looks at me for confirmation and I cannot find myself to say anything. Yet it’s exactly that which serves for confirmation.

‘Did my mother tell you?’ I ask softly.

‘Grandmother? No,’ he laughs. ‘Although she should know by now, too. The entire coven should know where that bloody demon is.’

No… Amon… Is he safe? Is he…

‘You have it all wrong, Abel. Please let us explain it. Amon isn’t…’

‘Isn’t what? A murderer? A demon? A fucking evil entity that killed our parents just because he could? You’re insane if you think I’ll listen to anything you say, Elizabeth,’ he tells me pointedly.

‘Mama, what the hell is happening?’ Abraham’s gaze flies between the two of us in confusion.

‘Yes, mama. Tell your precious son everything. Tell him you’ve been protecting a demon; that you forced them to call their true parents’ murderer father!‘

‘Where in God’s name did you hear that from? Who told you, because everything you think you know is wrong,‘ I burst out, sick of hearing Amon be called a demon when he is anything but.

‘Kress and Finn told me,’ he replies smugly. ‘They told me everything.’

What?

‘They also told me the secret to your ageless appearance,’ he continues.

‘What are you talking about?’ I frown.

He nods to my neck—to the necklace I’m wearing.

‘You have it all wrong, Abel. If you’ll just let me explain,’ I take a deep breath as I try to keep my head straight.

But after everything that has happened, I find myself slipping one second at a time.

‘I don’t want any explanation,’ he yells. ‘I don’t want anything! You already killed my parents. Do you think anything can bring them back? That you can just give me back the years I lost with them? No! It doesn’t work like that.’

I shrink back from his tone, a sliver of fear going down my back.

Abraham comes to my side, and despite the obvious confusion on his face, he grabs my hand, squeezing tightly.

‘You’re mad, Abel,’ his brother tells him. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see this earlier. All this time you’ve drifted further and further and I didn’t even notice…’

‘I’m mad?’ he laughs. ‘Oh, how wrong you are brother,’ he shakes his head.

Removing a knife from his coat, he waves it around, a sick smile on his face.

‘If I’m so mad, then your mama should bleed if I do this, no?’ he says and before I can realize what he means to do, the knife is embedded in my shoulder.

I bunch over in pain, but gritting my teeth, I grasp the handle, pulling it out of my flesh.

As it drops to the floor with a thud, my skin starts mending together.

Abraham looks at me with shock in his eyes.

‘But… But…’ he stammers.

Abel has a smug expression as he comes closer.

‘She should have no abilities, no? That is what grandma said. Yet she does.’

‘But how?’ Abraham asks dazedly.

‘From the demon, of course,’ he chuckles. ‘Because she’s a demon’s whore, that’s what she is. A fucking Satan worshipper.’

‘What do you want, Abel?’ I ask through gritted teeth. Though the wound is closing up, the physical pain is still there—just like the one in my heart where it feels like I’ve been stabbed over and over again.

‘Simple. An eye for an eye,’ he smiles. ‘And a little extra something.’

Before I know what’s happening, Abel has Abraham in a chokehold, dragging him backwards and restraining him in his arms. Silver gleams in the light as he places a blade at his brother’s throat.

My eyes widen in alarm.

‘What are you doing…’ I whisper in shock. ‘He’s your brother.’

‘He’s a waste of space. Like you,’ he scoffs.

‘Please don’t do that. Please! Let Abraham go. Your grievance is with me not with him,’ I beg.

‘Let me go,’ Abraham struggles in his arms, yet somehow he’s no match for Abel.

How?

When had Abel become so strong? How had he even found out all of these things? How, when some of them were only known to me and Amon?

God, but I shouldn’t have sent Amon away.

He would have been able to deal with this. And in a last attempt to salvage what’s left of our family, I whisper his name, knowing he will come to me.

‘Amon. Come.’

With the call in the wild, I know it’s a matter of seconds before he will appear. Until then, I need to deal with Abel myself.

‘Let Abraham go,’ I speak slowly as I take a step forward, keeping my eyes on him.

‘I might. For a price,’ he suddenly says.

‘A price? Anything,’ I readily agree.

My eyes meet Abraham’s and I witness the pain and confusion that resides in there. My Abraham has always been a gentle spirit, and to be put in this position by his own brother must be utterly heartbreaking.

As long as I can hold him off until Amon comes, I’ll do anything.

‘Your necklace. I want your necklace,’ he demands with a sneer. ‘I know it has to be given of your own free will, so don’t try to trick me. Gift the necklace to me and I will let him live.’

My eyes widen at his outrageous request. How could he have known about the necklace?

‘He’s your brother, Abel,’ I exclaim, unable to believe he would kill his own blood.

‘I have no family, Elizabeth. You took it from me. Now I have nothing!‘

His blade touches Abraham’s neck, a drop of blood spilling. Already it’s a drop too much as I feel myself panic.

Amon, Amon, where are you? Please come!

The seconds trickle by and my husband is nowhere to be seen while Abraham is still in danger. And I know Abel means it. There’s a deranged look in his eyes, a self-righteous conviction that he’s using to justify his actions.

Somehow, I am sure he would harm his brother to get what he wants.

‘Fine. I’ll give it to you. But you promise to let him go?’

‘A fair exchange, as I said.’

I don’t have time to think what the implications are for giving away my necklace—the source of all my powers. Yet at this moment, Abraham is more important than that. He’s the only one that matters.

Bringing my hands to my neck, I unclasp the necklace, taking it off.

Immediately, dizziness assails me at being separated from such an integral part of myself, and my soul weeps at being fragmented again.

‘Here,’ I extend my hand. ‘It is freely given. Now please let Abraham go.’

‘A deal is a deal,’ he nods to himself, giving Abraham a strong push just as he wrenches the necklace from my hand.

I quickly make to go to Abraham’s side, but just as I take one step, a strangled cry echoes in the church.

‘No,’ I shake my head as blood spills onto the ground.

On his knees, Abraham is still looking at me as blood gushes from the cut at his neck. The blade is stained with his blood as Abel waves it back and forth, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

‘No, no, no!’ I scream, fear unlike any other erupting inside of me.

Panicking, I throw myself over to him, my hands over his wound in an attempt to stop the blood.

Where are you, Amon? Our son is dying! He’s…

‘Ma…’ Abraham tries to speak, the word obvious, yet one that never reaches my ears before he slumps against me.

His breath is gone. His pulse is gone.

He is…dead.

A savage wail escapes my lips as I hold on to him, wishing with all my might I could save him—that I could return his breath and life essence.

But I can’t.

My powers are gone.

My abilities are bound.

I am absolutely useless as I stare into my son’s lifeless face, his eyes still open, his lips parted on a word that will never come out—one I will never hear again.

In all my life I’ve never felt as helpless as in that moment. What good does it do to have all the power in the world but be powerless still?

‘Abraham, please don’t,’ I whisper, my voice becoming erratic as I will him back to life. ‘Please, my baby. Don’t die on me. Please,’ I plead continuously, yet there is no one to hear my prayer.

No God. No Gods. No deities. There is nothing but this aching emptiness that forms inside my heart.

Even if Amon came now, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Even he doesn’t have that much power.

Abraham is dead. He is…dead.

‘What have you done, Abel?’ I ask in an anguished whisper. ‘What… How…’

I’d never thought my heart could take this much hurt, but as I cradle my dead child to my chest, I feel like howling in pain.

‘How could you…’

Tears cloud my vision as I hug him closer.

He can’t be dead.

No, my son can’t be dead.

I chant it in my head, thinking that maybe I will be able to will it into reality.

‘I’m merely righting your wrongs, mama,’ he laughs as he looks at his brother on the ground. Placing the necklace to his own neck, he takes a deep breath before setting his eyes on me once more.

‘I’m paving the way for a new future. One where the coven recognizes me and my new powers. One where they bow to me,’ he continues, and I get a glimpse into his plan.

I shake my head in dismay, not recognizing who he is anymore.

‘Who the hell are you, Abel?’ I whisper.

‘Oh, I’m glad you asked, Elizabeth,’ he gives me a wide smile. Coming closer, he leans into me until his words are dead whispers in my ears.

‘I’m the last thing you’ll ever see.’

Just as he draws back, I take a labored breath into my lungs.

My gaze goes lower to where a knife is protruding from my chest. Compared to the last hit, this is a ghost of a pain—ironically.

Yet unlike the other wound, this one doesn’t heal.

This one doesn’t close up as it keeps bleeding and bleeding, slowly taking with it my life’s essence. I don’t even know if I realize it at that moment, or if I can coherently categorize my thoughts.

I only know that I’m falling to the ground with Abraham by my side. My limbs are languid and unable to move just as my consciousness slowly slips for me.

The last thing I see is Abel, proudly cradling the necklace in his palm, his evil smile burned on my retina forever.

But the last thing I hear…

It’s a roar that soars through the sky, echoing through every building, every space.

A battle cry unlike any other and one that tells me he knows. And he is coming for me.

He’s coming for me.

He’s coming for us.

If only I can hold on until then…

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