Chapter 265

Grace

Originals

I'd heard that before, but how could Charles know that for certain? He told me that they were the first werewolves and they had lifespans similar to vampires. Astarte charged forward and Charles followed.

The fight was brutal and efficient. The Originals were raw and primal, landed heavy blows, but the security guards were well trained. Astarte's magic cut through the fray. Charles backed her up, subduing them easily. Soon, they were all subdued, pinned to the ground with silver cuffs glinting in the moonlight. They snarled and thrashed. Astarte stood over them, the darkness around her seemed to glow. The alarm turned off. The chaos settled, replaced by a tense silence. Astarte shook. Her eyes were pitch black in the low light of the building.

"Move them inside," she barked, her voice taut with barely controlled fury. "I'll deal with them."

A wave of unease washed over me. I followed as Charles helped get them all inside. The security guards ripped the masks from their faces. They all looked furious, but there was a glimpse of fear in their eyes.

"Why are you here?" Charles asked. "You get one chance to answer before you're made to answer."

One of them snarled. "As if we would answer a lycan."

Charles shrugged and stepped back, gesturing to them.

"Astarte, if it pleases you."

"Don't come near me, witch!"

My heart hammered against my ribs as she drew closer and the gathering darkness started to spread around them. Her hand reached out, a dark energy crackling around her fingertips. Then, with a muttered incantation, she plunged her hand into the forehead of the nearest Original, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

A guttural scream tore from the werewolf's throat, his body contorted in agony. I heard bones breaking. Charles wrapped an arm around me.

"Let me--"

"What is she doing?" I gasped as he arched into an inhuman angle, dangling from her hand.

"... getting answers."

It looked brutal. This had to be torture. Was it legal? Was this what the world beyond the States was like? As the sickening scene unfolded, a wave of nausea rose in my throat. This wasn't justice, it was barbarity.

"You have to stop her. This isn't right."

"Invaders get no quarter," Charles said. "Let me take you back to the party. You don't need to be here for this."

The screams grew more and more high-pitched, then abruptly cut off. A sickening gurgling sound filled the air, followed by a sickening thud as the first Original crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Astarte ripped her hand away and she turned on the next one.

"Wait!"

The next one was already screaming. Charles lifted me from my feet and carried me back outside, but it wasn't far enough not to hear his screams echoing in the night before breaking off.

Suddenly, the night went quiet around us. I felt a barrier around us.

"How can you let her kill people like that?"

"This is Astarte's domain," Charles said. "Her word is law."

I looked up at him. "You agree with her?"

His eyes narrowed. "Knowing what I know... I do."

I shuddered, shaking my head. I couldn't imagine. The barrier fell.

"Do you want to go back to the party?"

I set my jaw. "She's Alpha Shadow."

"She was."

"You knew."

"I figured it out."

I rounded him. He didn't stop. The originals were on the ground and silent.

"They were after…" Astarte started, her voice raspy with a barely controlled rage. "They were sent by Sean to take…"

Her voice trailed off, replaced by a deep growl. She whirled around, her gaze landing on me. A flicker of something – maybe pity, maybe something else – crossed her features before she steeled herself.

"Astarte?" Charles said.

"Set," she hissed. "But they don't know why they were sent, but they're Sean's."

I frowned. "Who is that?"

Astarte's gaze landed on me. "I'll show you."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn't want to follow her, but I found myself following anyway. A million questions swirled in my head, unanswered and urgent.

As I followed Astarte through the building, the moonlight cast long, eerie shadows. The night felt heavy.

Astarte led us through a maze of dimly lit corridors, the silence broken only by the sound of our footsteps on the polished marble floor. Tension hung thick in the air, a suffocating weight. My mind raced with questions, each unanswered one fueling my growing unease.

Finally, we stopped before a heavy oak door, an intricate silver sigil etched into its center. With a muttered incantation, Astarte pushed the door open, revealing a stark, sterile chamber bathed in an ethereal blue light.

The room was dominated by a large, crystal-encased pod in the center. Inside, a figure lay unmoving, his chest rising and falling with a shallow, rhythmic breath. Even from this distance, I noted that the man was handsome. His hair was long and dark, floating in the liquid around his head.

"You've updated," Charles commented.

"Always," Astarte said, crossing the room to sit beside the pod. "Darling... Charles is here... I've done a terrible thing."

I frowned, looking at her. The look on her face made no sense to me. She looked devastated and mourning.

"This is Set," Astarte said. "My husband." She paused. "He's been like this for years...It's that bastard, Sean's fault..." She sniffled. "Probably sent them here to... To finish the job he started all those years ago."

I stepped closer to the pod, scanning the intricate runes etched onto the crystal surface.

"What happened to him?" I asked.

Astarte, her back ramrod straight, did not turn around. But the tremor in her voice as she spoke spoke volumes. "It's uncertain... After the attack and the fire, he just... won't wake up. He won't heal. I put him in stasis while I've searched for a cure."

Her words were laced with a raw pain that surprised me. It was grief, deeper than I could ever understand.

The way she lingered near the pod, her hand hovering just above the cold surface as if seeking some connection, spoke of a desperate yearning.

"That's... why... Eason..." I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

Astarte finally turned towards me, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions – fear, despair, and a flicker of something that might have been anger.

"Yes," she rasped, her voice thick with unshed tears. "And I can't apologize enough." She looked away. "I had not known that... That you were the one to bring light back to Charles' life." She stroked the surface. "There were other targets, other methods... Not other healers per se, but I could have made do..."

Her voice trailed off, her shoulders slumping in defeat. In that moment, amidst the fear and confusion, a sliver of empathy bloomed within me.

"You're... mates, or something, right?"

Astarte nodded. Charles looked pained.

"This is... why you wouldn't tell me?"

Charles nodded.

The sterile chamber felt heavy with a suffocating silence, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the magic of the pod.

Charles, his brow furrowed in concern, pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Captain," he said into the receiver. "I need a full report on the attack on Noir and the previous one as well. Everything you can find."

He ended the call and turned to me and Astarte, his jaw clenched tight. "We need to figure out what Sean was after. "

Astarte nodded, and Charles dialed another number. I saw George and Eason in the projection.

"Is Set alright?" George asked.

Charles nodded. "They didn't make it to the chamber, but if you could fill Eason in and--"

"I don't need him to," Eason said, his eyes glowing. "He's no threat to Sean in his state, but he's a hinderance."

"How so?" Charles asked.

Eason tilted his head. "Not... entirely sure yet. An object. Lucian might have a better idea."

"How... do you know about Lucian?" Charles asked.

He grinned. "Being in magical trances is awesome. I'll head to the library, maybe there's something that can help."

"Thanks, get back to me. I'll get you Astarte's information."

"Tell her no hard feelings."

Astarte laughed, soft and watery. "Such generosity among witches..."

The silence was shattered by another knock on the door. This time, it was Lucian, his face etched with concern. Eva and Ryon trailed behind him, their expressions mirroring his.

"Grace? Charles? We heard about the attack," A man that looked a lot like Set said, his voice tight. "Is everything alright?" He turned to look at Astarte and a bit of tension draing out of him. "Set's okay."

"They didn't make it to the chamber," Charles said. "Good to see you, Lucian, Ryon... Eva."

Then, Astarte turned. She went still and jumped to her feet, whirling around, her eyes wide with surprise.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Astarte stared at the young woman behind Lucian. The young woman stared back in surprise and confusion.