CANDLES BURNED AROUND HIM, and the air was still, the flames barely flickered. It was steady and bright enough to relieve the darkness of the room. The items around each candle cast shadows that radiated out as hands-on an old analogue clock would.
The wick blackened and the wax slowly turned to liquid, running down the side and onto a glass plate, he sat right in the middle as an old, rusty book laid open on a page in front of him, Grayson tried reading it but he was unable to read what it said, it contained symbols that he had never seen before, and words he wouldn't be able to understand or even say, it was a completely different scripture he knew nothing about.
Her gentle footsteps made their way towards him, her short brown hair swayed as she moved with grace, her eyes held a certain emotion that Grayson couldn't quite put his finger on it, yet it stirred something within him, something he couldn't quite explain.
To say she was curious about the man that just stood before her, was an understatement, but she couldn't help the feeling as if she knew him, he felt familiar.
Placing the silver knife she held in her small hand next to the book, it's designed seemed old, very old...It must have been centuries old, witches were known to pass precious ornaments down to their offsprings. A silver bowl was next to the knife, carrying unknown herbs that he had never seen or heard of even though she had told him what they were.
"Pass me your hand." She commanded. To say she wasn't curious, would be simply a lie. She was curious about the man in front of her, he looked familiar, like she knew him but she wasn't able to put her finger on it.
Slowly, she lifted the silver knife, using it's sharp end slicing through his palm, it caused the skin to burn under the touch of silver: a fresh, warm crimson liquid flowed out dripping down onto the bowl, with small splashes its presence consumed the herbs that laid there, over-flowed them, over-powered their colour.
His wound healed within seconds, even with the touch of silver it should've taken longer, doesn't matter how deep the wound was, it would have affected a werewolf. 'Who the hell are you?' She stared at his palm that once was gushing blood, shocked. The wound seemed to have now healed completely, no trace of its slit, its damage upon his skin.
"What the hell?" She whispered but no doubt he had heard her, he sat right in front of her. 'Strange...' She thought. 'What the hell was he? Well, there was one way to find out.' She thought, she wasn't stupid, no matter his threat she wasn't going to help him willingly not until she found out who he was. She began to chant, just like her Grandmother had taught her once.
The candle flames began to flicker more aggressively causing the flames to increase it's flammable power entrapping him within the circle, her voice held a shaking tone to it, it was harsh as she whispered foreign words, words that Grayson couldn't understand. If she were to kill him with a simple spell he wouldn't know, what she was saying. She began to slowly chant the same thing on repeat, over and over again.
"Quaeram dea tuos, de luna, Video quid quaero indica mihi." She looked possessed, shaking with the force of each word that she uttered.
Candle flames flickered wildly as the witch kept on chanting her words, each word she spoke came out heavier than the first, her upper body rocked side to side, shaking violently. Her once brown eyes flashed to almost white as her head dipped back unable to hold in the pain she felt, slowly building inside of her.
A burning sensation burned her body, the feeling of giving up was strong but she couldn't, there was something about the man that sat right in front of her that she couldn't pinpoint, he felt too familiar she couldn't place her thing as to were she had seen him before.
" Quaeram dea tuos-" her chants became louder, stronger and harsher.
There was something strong, dark about the man. The Flames increased their size as they grew bigger with each chant that she uttered, 'why was this so hard?' She had done this before, millions of times. 'Who the hell was he?' No matter her difficulty, she pushed harder and harder, wanting answers but there seemed something that blocked her from entering his mind. He had informed her of what he wanted, he wanted his memories back. But for what she was looking for, she didn't know.
Trickles of sweat slowly dripping down her face, her attempts to push past the pain, slowly increased in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robs her ability to speak, as the pain slowly takes over a portion of her brain as if dealing with it is energy expenditure enough, without the effort of new thoughts. It was the sort of pain that burns as if an invisible flame were held against her skin. The emotions of loss are that way, right? Death, abandonment or betrayal, they all lead there. She pushed and pushed until the barriers of his subconscious broke.
Grayson could feel her within his mind, he could see what she saw. And everything she saw, it wasn't something he wanted her to see at all.
Glimpses of his past flashed before her eyes, his memories that he had lost. Red. That's all she saw, so much anger, so much rage... The thing she saw next horrified her, stopping immediately backing away in fear from the man in front of her.
"Stay back." Her lips quivered, holding one of her hand out in attempt to stop him from getting closer. She was scared. Anyone would be.
The candle flames had settled, but Grayson was just too confused to understand why her change of attitude, he could tell she was scared from whatever she saw. Fear clearly consumed her as she stood there dumbfound, she was just too terrified to even move. What if he killed her? He said he wouldn't, yet he had killed so many, it seems he has no loyalty to his own people.
She couldn't get the images out of her head. As the images kept on flashing repeatedly in her mind, haunting her vision, she couldn't believe what she was saw... Their throats had been cut and they laid like butchered animals in a waste of blood.
Their bodies laid like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. It looked as if a special effects team had worked overtime for some Friday the thirteenth movie set, but that smell... That smell could only come from the recently slaughtered animals. In this case, the animals were humans and their corpses were still warm, the blood thickening but not yet dried on their waxy skin. Some cases took a while to decide if foul play was involved, but this was murder all the way.
The sickening feeling unease her, she could feel his enjoyment, his desire for blood thirty. He craved it, pursued it. Her strong attempts to make the images stop flashing within her own mind, failed miserably.
The cold look reflected on his face gave her shudders. His hands were tightly closed around an innocents neck. He seemed to have no sense of humanity. His heart seemed to be made of stone, the way he had brutally killed those people.
She couldn't get rid of the evil glint in his beady eyes. The murderer had smelt of blood. Of danger. You would have to be stupid enough to think he didn't have a problem killing or mercilessly murdering anything or anyone.
"How could you kill them?" It was a whisper rather than a bold question. She just stared at him, with anger but most of all fear, she was scared to feel anything else. She was scared of him, she feared him. She heard the many news outlets about him, she had thought nothing at the time but now it was different, he was right in front of her. She was at his mercy.
"Your own kind? How could you?" She was speaking more to herself than to him, unable to fathom the idea of killing your own kind.
"How could you betray them... Why?" Looking at her hands as if the answers lay there, but they didn't.
"They were your people" her voice raising, yet he didn't utter a word. He was too confused to understand what she was saying, His people? What did that mean? He didn't have anyone.
"You know they fear you..." She continued, it made sense now- who he is. He was infamous indeed. Everyone had hunted for him for years, but they didn't really know what they were looking for, they were looking for a beast of a creature not a man? or a boy even.
Nothing, no words left his mouth. He didn't need to tell a stranger for his reasons to kill, it was true that he had a problem back then he still does but now he was trying to ignore the urges, the beast was too strong at times, and couldn't control himself but he never meant to hurt anyone. it was simply instinct, it was to survive. She didn't know half of it, his past was something he wasn't proud of but he was trying to change.
He was known as the ripper, he would rip his victims' bodies limb from limb as he slowly tortured them, it was a way to let off some steam but he was young, he didn't know how to control it, and because of his lack of control the people had suffered from his actions. He was Feral and under the influence of Marcel, he didn't know what was right or wrong. He had no control, he still doesn't sometimes. It wasn't his fault.
"How could you?!" her voice boomed across the room. Why was she so mad at him? he understood that it was wrong but what does she expect from him, it's not like he wanted to purposely kill them, it was them or-
"Answer me!" she demanded, but Grayson knew better than to tell her the truth, she wouldn't understand. Her eyes burnt holes at his forehead as she stared intensely.
Confused was one word, she would describe what she had just seen but that wasn't it. Horrified. Barbarous was another, those are better words to describe it but she was confused by the fact that he was only a child when he had his first kill, how was a child strong enough to cold-bloodedly murder a group of fully grown werewolves. No one is that strong, no one... She tried convincing herself but knew better.
"What did they do to you?" Another question was thrown at him. She somewhat felt sorry for him, she could feel the pain and darkness that still consumed him. The pain that never went away, but only made room for it, he didn't feel like a person but he felt like he was more of a problem, than a human being in need.
He didn't know how to answer her question, he couldn't. He was searching for answers, not questions. The silence stretched between the two as their eyes just stared at one another.
"You're the beast..." She whispered to herself as though she had uncovered a secret that was supposed to be discovered.
"Why you? It doesn't make any sense?" Her attempts to trying puzzling things together and come up with a reasonable conclusions.
"How could you betray your own pack?" Grayson had no idea what that meant, his pack? He didn't have a pack, how would she know? What did she know?
"I don't have a pack" he simply stated, it was indeed a true fact and he was sure the witch knew that but it made no sense to him as to what she meant by that, did she know where he was from? Who his parents were? Who they were? And what they looked like? All these questions still unanswered and it pained him, he was getting nowhere.
"You don't know, do you?" As her head lifted up, gazing at him as she contemplated on telling him.
"Know what?" He grew frustrated. Gritting his teeth together as he spoke. If she knew something why was she holding back, why was she not telling him as to what she knew.
"Grayson-" she began but stopped immediately. The wood underneath the intruder's feet squeaked as they took their steps towards them.
Grayson knew who the intruder was, and it wasn't good.