House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 22 (Clare)

Clare shot him a wicked look, before they started the journey into the forest, both of them carrying the stuff from the trunk.

Silence thick as the tension in the air, they walked deeper into the forest. When the vehicle exploded, she jumped by the shock and vibration of the ground, and with it came the brutal and horrifying reality, of her situation. She was stuck! Now blindly, having to trust strangers and this man who laid a serious claim of being the one person she’d hoped to find for eight long years, her father. Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

There was something not right with it, something she knew she was missing. The feeling so potent and strong that she could physically feel it kicking and screaming in her mind with a powerful rage. Her mind wanted her to remember what it lost, it had always been greedy, but now it starved with need.

Clare tried to push the thoughts of her mother’s sudden death out of her head as it threatened to flood her memory. After every attempt, trying to figure out why her mind and body were at war, she had to give up because all it caused was nausea.

Caidrian looked at her, shaking his head. They moved in silence until he huffed in annoyance breaking the silence, “Your name is Gabriella Moonstone of the sixth realm, I’ve spent the first years of your life with you but after the accident, your memory was gone and so was everything that made you a descendant, if the rest of the Garde or the Advisors found out, they would have branded you as a curse and left you to die on the Elvan mountains.” He spoke too calmly, matter of factly like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What, seriously? Why would they do that?” Clare was anything but calm at the mention of her and death in the same sentence. Why would these people want to kill her.

He nodded, “Descendants are very strong on tradition, something to remember when we get to the realm.”

When he didn’t explain further, her anger rose, “No one has spoken about my amnesia for years, my mother never mentioned anything to me. I asked her, I wondered why would my father just abandon me. I always wanted a brother, a father, family.” She paused, swallowing the lump lodged in her throat, “do you know what it's like spending your holidays alone. I like things to make sense, I need it to make sense, I need facts.” When he remained quiet she added softly, “If there’s one thing I know about life Caidrian it's that death is easier than betrayal. I’ve been surrounded by a cocoon of lies for years. So if you are my father, I need you to explain it to me, I need you to give me the facts.”

Even a stranger could see the pain in Caidrians eyes as he listened to Clare, she didn't mean to poke a nerve, she needed answers. But he didn't budge, “We’ll talk later.”

His finality of the statement left no room for argument. Noticing his clenching hand as it balled in a tight fist around the packet handles, unwanted images of Barbatos holding her mother’s heart while it dripped of blood, invaded her frontal lobe. It was like the world spun at an unusually fast pace, but as much as she tried to join in she was standing still, an invisible force holding her to the ground.

Caidrian spoke but she couldn’t register what he was saying, her mind refused to process it. Clare stared at him but it was like she was actually staring through him really. Her mother was dead, and all she felt was shock and anger, the need for blood, but there was no sorrow, no heartache.

What did it say about her? Was she herself a monster? Was she one of the demons that Caidrian had explained looked like human?! Questions that she couldn’t answer filled her mind in a maddening repetition?

Caidrian’s eyes darted around the trees, until he finally caught her frozen status, as if he understood what was happening to her, he pushed her, causing her to fall unceremoniously on the ground, “OW, What the hell.” Clare yelled as her eyes glared at him from the ground.

Caidrian stopped walking and looked down at her form resting on the floor. He reached his hand out to assist her. But she didn’t accept it, instead, she put her hands on the sandy pathway, and as the small stones poked into the palms of her hands, she got up and dusted herself off.

“You were going into shock, do it again I’ll slap you.”

Deeper into the forest, silence distanced them yet again, Clare, too wrapped up in questions to let the man’s cold demeanor affect her.

Why was her mother hiding her? Was she hiding her? Why were these people helping her? What were these people doing in her life now after all these years? What changed? Did something transpire that she didn’t know about?

Her mind bombarded with these thoughts, but the biggest question lingered in the air like a silent blade of thorns waiting to be unleashed- If she weren’t human then what was she. Words flowed from her lips before her mind even processed it happening, “If I’m not human then what am I?” She was not certain she would like the answer, but knowing was better than not knowing.

Caidrian looked at her, deciding what to say or how to start, or if this was a good time to keep him quiet. His indecision however was written clearly on his face, “let’s get you to a safe place, I’ll explain it to you later.”

She screamed, “NOW,” her voice echoed through the forest. The birds in the trees leaving their resting place.

His hand cupped her mouth silencing her. “Quiet, we’re being followed.” He hissed.

Her eyes widened as her gaze skittered around the forest, the tall trees intimidating her with their height as she sized them with envy. The birds chirped in a melody which Clare interpreted as a hymn of

sorrow taunting her with the knowledge of her lack of affection, was she being judged? Shaking her head at how ridiculous an insinuation she conjured up, she dropped her head not sure what to believe anymore.

Caidrian grabbed hold of her shoulders beckoning her towards him. He yielded her in as she pushed away, still resisting him, but as he pulled her closer toward him, he gripped her into a strong embrace.

She released her rage and anger, hitting him on his chest, shouting, “I hate you, you left me you bastard, you COWARD, you fucking left me, I hate you.”

“I know, I'm sorry, shhh, I’m so sorry Clare.”

Wetness on her cheek spilled as the softness of his voice lulled her. He cooed her like one would a newborn baby, reassuring her with gentle words. But what should've eased her, hardened her instead as it poured over her like acid withering away the little happiness she had in her, of meeting her father.