Page 69 of The Nephilim's Finesse

"What if Thorne was right? What if they won't listen?" Riccardo, a young vampire, whispered, his eyes wide with awe and fear.

"Then we'll show them that we have changed," I answered resolutely. "We'll prove our sincerity through actions, not just words. We'll make amends for the atrocities committed in our name and work tirelessly to build bridges where once there were only walls."

With that, I strode towards the door to the courtyard, ready to leave this place, my newfound allies following in my wake. As I stepped out of the shattered remains of my past, I knew that the future held limitless possibilities—for me and all those who dared to dream of peace.

"Thorne's reign has ended," I exclaimed, a grim smile playing on my lips. "And now, we begin anew."

20 Raph

I sat in our office, the dim light casting shadows on the walls as I reviewed case files. The silence was interrupted only by the steady ticking of the clock and the soft clicking as I typed something on my laptop. My thoughts were heavy with concern for the people we helped, their lives touched by darkness and supernatural danger.

The door creaked open, and Puriel entered, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in her slender hand. Her dark hair, woven into a long braid, rested on her golden-brown shoulder as she closed the door behind her with an exhausted sigh.

“This was a shitty day.”

I waited for her to continue, tension knotting my muscles as she hesitated.

“Victorija attacked Thorne,” she replied, settling into the chair across from me. She took a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze distant and troubled, before she closed her eyes.

My stomach dropped, cold dread spreading through my veins like ice. The image of Victorija—her red curls framing her delicate, freckled face—flashed through my mind, followed by the memory of Thorne's ruthless expression, his blond hair an incongruous halo around his merciless brown eyes. The thought of those two vampires locked in battle was almost too much to bear. I held my breath. Was she all right? Puriel opened an eye and watched me. I tried to stay calm, but inside, my heartbeat accelerated to a jackhammer pounding against my ribcage.

I forced my voice to remain steady as I asked, “Who won?” I gulped my fear down.

“Victorija. It cost dozens of vampires their lives. They let the evidence rot in one of their houses,” Puriel replied, her tone flat and unreadable. She studied me for a moment as if assessing my reaction.

Images of Thorne, broken and battered, flashed through my mind, each one more gruesome than the last. A small smile spread across my lips. He got what he deserved. The threat of being overrun by demons was eliminated.

"Where did this happen?" I asked.

"Essex," she replied. "An anonymous caller tipped off the police about a house filled with bodies. They asked for me specifically."

"Essex..." I echoed, trying to picture the place in my mind. Victorija had listed a house in Southend-on-Sea once.

“What did your team find?”

“Since they called the police and not the brotherhood, I walked into a slaughterhouse similar to where we rescued Andrew and Charlie. Among the many dead was Thorne, ripped into pieces.”

I clenched my fists, anger and relief warring within me. Thorne's death was a small comfort in the face of so much bloodshed, but it meant that Victorija was still out there, her fate uncertain.

"I found this at the scene," she said solemnly. "I thought you should see it." She reached into her pocket and retrieved an envelope, placing it on the desk between us. Attached to it was a card with “John” written on it. She handed it to me. I unfolded the card, and it read “I’m sorry” in very delicate handwriting.

“In the envelope is an essay on the French Revolution. It reads like a memoir.”

I nodded. John had asked her about every detail of the French Revolution for his thesis. Was this her way of making amends to compensate for the cruel thing she had done to him to get free? The thing that I had forced her to do because I wanted to keep her with me forever?

Puriel gave me another envelope; on it was written “Raph”. I picked up the envelope cautiously, feeling curious and apprehensive. What would I find in there? A letter of apologies or accusations? Nothing? I grazed the thick white paper with my fingertips before I broke the seal. A single lavender stem fell onto the desk as I pulled out the contents. Its purple petals filled my nose with their unique smell.

“I think she wanted to send a message. Lavender in February? Do you know what that means?”

A flood of emotions washed over me as I stared at the single flower. Victorija once told me that my scent reminded her of Southern France, fields full of lavender, and home. Was this her way of telling me she was safe? That she wanted to return? Was it an invitation for me to come to her?

I held the flower carefully, feeling the weight of its significance. The decisions I'd have to make pressed down on me like a vice, squeezing my chest.

"Where is she now?" I finally managed to ask, my voice cracking with the effort.

"Unknown," Puriel said, her eyes never leaving my face. "She disappeared after the fight."

The room seemed to shrink around me, pressing in and threatening to suffocate me under the weight of the news. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I willed myself to maintain control, to keep the storm of emotions churning within me at bay. Thorne was dead, and Victorija was reaching out to me. That was good news, wasn’t it?

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