Page 18 of Cursed Lifeline

Before I can take my next breath, Alfred's fist collides with my nose. My head snaps backward as a contemptuous chuckle leaves my brother's lips. Cold blood dribbles out my left nostril as my eyes flare with violence and lock back on Esme's brother.

Even though I want to end him for his brutal outburst and the threat he proposes to the coven, his connection to Esme stops me.

I wasn't lying. Even if it's hard for him to hear, it's the truth. She couldn't kill me, even after years of their pathetic training. I saw it in her eyes tonight.

What's more, something tells me that as much as I crave the taste of her blood, I could never rob her of the one thing I wish was never stolen from me.

My mortal life.

And that's the one reason why I should listen to their warnings, heed my heart's caution, and do as I told her.

Stay. Away.

But as my brothers turn against me, the watchers stand their ground, and her pull on my heart grows stronger with each passing second, I get the sudden urge to do the opposite and prove them wrong.

Alfred's eyes fill with disdain as he says, "You stay away from Esme, and the watchers will ensure your safety."

I laugh. "We're already guaranteed protection."

"You sure about that?" Caelum grins.

My eyes drift towards him, and I laugh, "Your kind has never trained a successful slayer. You'd be better off asking forourprotection."

Alfred and his pathetic partner square off against me and my brothers. Silence falls on the forest. Even the irritating sounds of insects, nocturnal creatures, and the scurrying of life from minutes ago cease to exist.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred takes one small step forward and sternly holds my stare. The look in his eyes would inflict fear, panic, and horror in a mortal man. Unfortunately for him, I'm a deity he'd be smart not to cross like this again.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he says, "I stood by Esme long before you ever stepped foot on Martin soil, Prince Caldwell, and I'll be standing by her side long after you leave, or she puts you in a wooden coffin your damned soul will never escape. Push me, defy me, and I'll run a stake through your heart myself and make her watch so she knows never to get close to your kind again."

"Big threats for a man destined to teach and never play the game," I snarl. "You know what they say about teachers, Alfred, right? Those who can, do. Those who can't…"

Leaning forward, Alfred cuts me off angrily, "I've dedicated my life to honing her skills to defeat the likes of you, and the evil that's always lurked in this family. You care for her? You want to truly protect her? You'd do the same. Remember that next time you're spouting stupid cliches to make yourself seem like a bigger man."

Brushing past me angrily, Caelum shoots daggers my way as he follows suit and leaves with the master, who pulls both his and Esme's strings.

Staring into the night after their retreating forms, I wrestle with everything Alfred has just said.

"He's right, you know," Talon warns, and I swear to God, if his shadows come out to play again, I don't care what dreadful warning they might show me next, I'll end them all if only to get a little peace and fucking quiet so I can try to escape the inescapable for once.

"No," I insist. "He's wrong. If I cared for her, I'd find a way to beat the odds and prove to us both it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

Seven

Esme

song: let me fall | Ex habit & Bury

Alfred swiftly cutshis sword up to the right in a sweeping motion just as I jolt back, pull strength and courage from within, and thrust mine forward. The sharp caress of metal assaults my ears as my brother presses his weight into me. I try to hold my ground, but I’m forced backward one, two, three jarring steps. Just before I’m caged in against the brick wall behind me, I squat and sweep my right leg out, landing Alfred flat on his back.

“Your left,” Silas, another one of my brother’s friends and fellow member of the Magister Council, shouts.

I duck just in time to avoid Caelum’s blade.

“Remember the footwork I showed you,” Silas yells. “Two left feet will get you in worse trouble on the battlefield than on the dance floor, Esme.”

Silas has been with us for a week now, and his condescending nature always grates on my last nerve. I grunt in annoyance as Caelum raises his sword again, and Alfred scrambles to his feet. I pick up Alfred’s discarded blade, carelessly abandoned on the floor before me, and I don’t hold back.

Strong. Courageous. I violently lunge forward. Caelum barely has time to deflect my right downward cut before I slash upwards with the blade in my left hand. He stumbles backward, and I thrust forward with my right. He dodges the hit but fails to block the other, and I manage to land my next blow perfectly in the center of his chest where his armor deflects the blade with a shrill screech.

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