When Blood Runs Cold - Chapter 217

In all honesty, I never did much ponder on the identity of the little fox other than the fact he was Serena’s first (and for a long time), only companion. Perhaps had my mind not been so buzzing with thoughts of my mate, my blood running fresh and fast through my system with the exhilaration of newfound love, I think I would have been more suspicious of that little fox. To me, he was just a fox who seemed far too smart for his own good- sometimes annoyingly so.

I should have realised there was more to it than that.

“You know,” I admit, bowing my head with a powerless exasperation at the figure that stands before me, entirely undone. “I never thought I would be bamboozled by a little fox.”

But fox he is no longer.

The man is tall, well sculpted, obviously trained with some physical or close hand combat due to the series of well formed muscles that ripple just under the surface of the skin. There is a red marking under his eye- similar to the sun marking that is stamped upon Serena’s arm, only his is a bear paw, the mark of a warrior.

From what I have heard and seen in my countless years of life and rather volatile run in’s with the angels, is that warriors are one of the most brutal, hard hearted, people of all the angel division, and for good reason.

They are trained to kill vampires the way vampires kill them: without a single scrap of mercy. There have been many a vampire who hesitate to approach the borders for fear of crossing one such creature, though such an idle fear never infected my heart. After all, I was very much in need of a proper challenge back then.

Thankfully, the majority of his body is covered up by Kal’s jacket, but the pieces that are available for show leave little to the imagination (much to Kal’s delight). As he comes to, straightening out his long, white hair, flexing his fingers, muscles, aching for some sort of relief, his two toned eyes scan the room around him. There is suspicion in his gaze, but equal parts warmth: refreshing and light as the evening summer sun. So I can only help but smile at this creature, at last realising whose face it is I have seen in my wife’s dreams so many times.

“Ithuriel,” I muse, wiggling my brows as I survey this angel. “Never did I suppose you could be an angel. That is quite some astounding magic.”

Shrugging, Ithuriel pulls the scrap of Kal’s clothing further over himself, shrinking beneath it.

“The great Elris’ magic is incredibly powerful. Even I was unaware he possessed such skills.”

My smile widens.

“You shall have to introduce me.”

Nervously, Ithuriel flexes the wings on his back as he shifts himself uncomfortably in the scant amount of clothing he has- clearly not attuned to the ways of the vampires who often wear far less. But feeling generous, and unusually warm hearted in the knowledge that I no longer have any reason to worry about the possibility of disbelief for my plan, I flick my hand over Ithuriel’s body, clothes now covering in bare skin.

Stumbling slightly, he straightens out the waistcoat I have assigned him- deep blue in nature, and finely laced with little jasmine flowers along the cuffs. He shakes his legs out awkwardly in the black pants, clearly not used to having such close fitting finery upon his body. After all, many warriors of Illistrae- at least the ones I have seen prior, have a tendency to wear lose, flowy clothing for ease of movement in battle, and as such an attire like the one I have granted him would surely be a change of pace to say the least.

But either way he does not voice his misgivings, merely nodding his head as he utters lowly:

“Thank you,” handing the jacket back to Kal, who hugs it just a little bit too tightly to be grateful. I try not to let my grin arise as I watch Kal fawn over the jacket, hugging it close to his chest, musing to myself that perhaps now his only infatuation with the thing is due to the fact it has seen the most intimate parts of Ithuriel’s body. Kal never was once for subtle flirting and gentle suggestion, preferring rather to go all out with his statements, however bold they may be. But I do not reprimand him on it.

“It is good to finally meet you, Ithuriel,” I smile warmly, for it really is. Despite our ups and downs, and the several numerous occasions where he thought me to have killed his Queen (when we were still at a time where trust between us had yet to blossom), over the recent days his trust for me has flourished. I imagine him learning of my acceptance of his Queen has quelled the hatred in his heart somewhat, too. While he certainly has a few lingering misgivings for me to say the least, overall his faith in my actions are absolute.

I hold out my hand to him, giving a gentle smile.

“It is good to meet you too, Soren. Properly that is,” he nods, shaking my hand firmly, and shivering as my hand collides against his skin. Besides us, Delina squeaks in surprise, her eyes glazing as she takes in the winged form of this handsome angel, shrinking back a bit into the shadows, as if perhaps hoping to escape then and there.

“That fox was… him? This angel?” she whispers, bringing a hand up to her mouth to hide her gasp. Kal shoots her a dirty look, his eyes flashing murderously.

“His name is Ithuriel,” Kal snarls, his fingers tightening against his jacket, shaking as he tries and fails to slip his rage. “Do not disrespect him, Delina.”

“I wasn’t planning too,” she snarls back, but eyes the angel with a weary expression anyway, her red eyes narrowed with a sullen suspicion. Raising his hands, Ithuriel brings the two of them into a simmering silence, quelling their anxieties as he turns to me, flicking back the long white strands of hair that catch around his face.

“I have long since given up the thought of trying to hurt either of you,” he assures, pursing his lips like a mother scolding an out of line child. Delina does not look convinced. Seeing this, Ithuriel merely sighs, beginning to pace now.

“Look. You needed a second advocate for the plan, I shall stand for my people and the vampires. My mother is on the angel’s council, she will listen to me, she will help you with your endeavours,” he explains with a reassuring smile, glancing to Kal for acknowledgement. The little dragon boy beams.

“I am the head warrior and personal guard of the Queen, Serena, and before now was staunchly in favour of decimating all vampires. I have since seen the error of such a judgement in you, and Delina,” he says, pausing a little as he turns to Kal, a fleeting smile crossing his face. “And Fangorn. You vampires are not as you once were- at least not all of you. There is a chance for redemption there. With your rule, Soren, I am confident things will change. It is only a shame my Queen is not here to see it.”

Silently, I bow my head, a flicker of melancholy jolting through my heart.

“It is,” I whisper, my face falling now. “How proud she would have been of you, Ithuriel. She treasured your friendship dearly, you know.”

A wan smile breaks over his face.

“I know.”

It breaks my head to realise that Serena- the founder of such a revolutionary thought, is unable to see how her plans are put into action, how she might benefit the world on our behalf. But hopefully, hopefully, by the time she comes back to us, or by the time we have gone to fetch her, such a plan will already be visible and in action.

We need both vampires and angels to win this war. I can only hope now that they will comply.

“So what is the plan now?” Kal pipes up as I begin to lift Dawn onto my shoulders, letting the little angel cling around my neck for balance as I prop the eternal flame under my arm for safe keeping. Inching around Ithuriel- who has since fallen into place next to Kal, a slight flush on his cheeks and his heart beating heavy, Delina peers up at me, as the shadows that curls around me form, folding her arms expectantly.

“Yeah, what are we going to do Soren? Just go up there and announce to the whole palace that Azrael is a bad egg, and that you are going to- what, be making peace with the angels by returning their flame?”

Narrowing my eyes, I purse my lips.

“That is exactly what I am going to do,” I growl, lowering my voice as my hand tightens further around the flame, protective, if not wary. “I-“