Heirs of the Gods

Ch 52.2: Sign of the times

Warning: Blood, violence, mentions of past violence

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Grayson's footsteps down the hallway were wobbly and quick, fuelled with rage. He practically ran down the path, yanking on doors, attempting to find one that wasn't locked.

Ella could have caught up with him in the time it took for him to breathe, but she kept a leisurely step behind him, attempting to avoid further antagonising him.

"Grayson, stop. I am not going to hurt you, I'm still your sister."

He bolted ahead, coming to stand in front of the last room at the end of the hallway. The large double doors of a sitting room. He rattled the doorknob, finding that it was unlocked.

Eyes like a wild animal, he yanked it open as he turned to face her, "Don't you dare use my name, you are no sister of mine! You're nothing more than a foul, twisted creature!"

He stumbled into the room and Ella grimaced, knowing that he wouldn't like the inhabitants any more than he liked her.

She could sense them, even before entering the room behind her brother. Restless, tense energy. They'd likely heard everything he'd hurled her way. Humiliation niggled at her, but she brushed it aside. She was more concerned with salvaging whatever scraps remained of the relationship with her brother.

Grayson barrelled into the sitting room, and immediately went still, staring at the occupants with undiluted horror. He crowded against the wall furthest away, looking like he wanted to claw his way into the rigid surface, to make even more space between them.

His eyes scanned the room, head swivelling in every direction. He was dripping with it--pure, undiluted terror. Ella was surprised she could smell it. The scent of fear, pungent and coppery like blood.

"Get back!" he braced against the wall, baring his teeth. "Don't you dare come any closer, any of you!"

Cool, unblinking eyes stared back at him, unphased by his display. Blaise and Valren, sitting ramrod straight in their seats. Aedion, leaned against the fireplace beside Callan, a picture of boredom. And Callan, steely and devoid of any emotion. Barely restrained tension rippling under the surface, just waiting to be let out.

If anything, their unwavering silence seemed to perturb Grayson even further. His human eyes and senses were not too keen, not enough to pick up on the crackling of their magic, the difference in the air, but he could tell.

All that preternatural stillness. All that lethal grace, the evident power prowling beneath their beautiful facade. They were otherworldly beings, and he recognised that, the way prey recognised predator. It was mere survival instincts.

Ella realised that's what she looked like to him as well. Other.

"No one is going to hurt you, Grayson," she said tersely, lifting her hands placatingly as she stood near him. "These are my friends. No one here means you any harm."

"Your friends?" His hard gaze roamed over them, disgust permeating its depth as he took them in. The sneer on his mouth curved even deeper, and Ella bit back a snarl of her own.

These were her friends. This was her home. A place she'd come to love so dearly, people that cared for her. Grayson's disgust made her skin prickle and her stomach churn. All that hate.

"Those are animals," he whirled his gaze back to her as if he couldn't stomach looking at them for too long. "Just like you, a filthy animal. I'm only glad my father isn't alive to see that he let a fae beast into the manor."