Page 35 of Dark Angel

His father told Charles to wait for him, but he’s been gone almost half an hour at this point. Charles knows his father is of high importance within the Ascendancy, and that takes up the majority of his time and energy.

Charles always gets a twinge of excitement when Robert wants to spend time with him. Of course, he would never admit it to anyone, but it hurts him when his father is distracted by work-related issues after promising to reserve time for his son.

The door opens abruptly, and Robert appears, sealing it behind him. “Your mother is asleep now. I made sure she was before I came down.” Robert informs him.

He sits down in his large, overstuffed leather chair, crossing his hands on the desk between them. Charles gives a small nod. “What is this about then, father?” Questioning him.

He observes Robert, who looks almost identical to him, just with more wrinkles and stubble. His blackened hair greying ever so slightly on the sides, and his fingers are beginning to look more worn than his own. “You know, Charles, that I will be stepping down soon from my role as head of the Ascendancy,” Robert pauses momentarily, “and I want you to become the next leader, but I fear that the other Elders might not agree with my decision.”

Charles scrunches his face up in confusion. “Why won’t they agree with you? What have they said to you?” his words rushing out anxiously.

Robert lets out a deep sigh, rubbing his light blackened beard covering the bottom half of his face. Irises a dim olive shade likeCharles’. “They have reasons to believe that you are not as mature as a leader should be.” He explains to his son.

“Iammature. I attend every meeting. I even come with you on assignments when you’re investigating anything reported.” Charles defends himself, utterly offended by what his father is sharing with him.

Robert grumbles a little. “You just need to show them that you are most suited for this role,” he pauses again, picking up a feather and positioning an empty piece of parchment under his hand, “there is a ball at the Ascendancy later this week. You will need to show them that you are worthy of being selected, make them change their minds. I don’t want to see anyone else being chosen for this role. You and I both know we can’t let that happen. To protect both the Ascendancyandour family’s business.”

“Iammost suited for this role, father.” Charles raises his voice.

Robert shoots him a look, reminding him to keep his voice low to avoid his mother waking up and listening in on them.

“Nobody else was raised to be the leader like I have,” Charles continues in a softer tone, “not Clarence, nor Levi or Isaac, and especially not Jordan Carter.” He spits out the last name like it’s poison on his tongue.

“I know you are frustrated, but you need to remain calm about this, like you have no idea we’ve spoken. I think it will be wise for you to show them that you are competent and adult enough for this role. And with maturity comes responsibility,” he pauses to study his son intently, “you need to hurry and find a girl to court, Charles.”

His head shoots up to stare right into Robert’s superior face. “I do not wish to court a girl just to solidify my position. I want to become the leader based on my family title and my abilities, not because I am old enough to wed someone.”

“While that’s true, by wedding a girl, you’ll also be showing them the responsibility they’re seeking. Something that a leader must possess in order to be taken seriously.” Robert scratches his chin as heconsiders his son’s aggravated expression. “It is not a big deal, Charles. I wedded your mother to become the leader, and I suggest you do the same. Choose a well-respected girl who the Ascendancy trusts. Think of it as more of a business agreement.”

Charles stares at his father. Can he really do that? Choose a girl to be his wife just to solidify this position? Will he feel guilty for dragging her into a loveless marriage just to benefit himself?

Charles raises his chin, nodding slightly, and his father’s face loosens. “All right. I will choose a girl to wed.”

*?*?*

“Son, I know what you’re saying, but the incisions are not something I have seen before in all my years as a physician.” Percy tells Lewis as they study the old, torn book together.

“So, you believe Infernals could have made those carvings?” Lewis questions his father as they stand in the apothecary store Percy owns in Soho.

It’s a store which both Mortals and Marked creatures come to for aid. Percy sells various types of herbs and spices, dressings and remedies that all creatures find necessary. Being a physician, he’s always healing both humans and the supernatural, seeing them all as patients and customers.

It’s already dark outside, and the store has been closed for hours already. The lightweight wooden closed sign hanging over the hook on the glass door.

Lewis stands with his father while Valarie looks through the assortment of bandages and wraps in a large wooden box next to the counter.

Percy drops his hand from Lewis’ shoulder. “Yes, the carvings are too precise. It is almost as if it is trying to send us a message,” hedescribes. “No wolf’s claw can cut that thin. No talon can, either. It looks to be some sort of weapon. I presume it to be the workings of an Infernal, or perhaps even a Seraphim.”

“An Infernal or Seraphim?” Valarie echoes his words.

Both Lewis and Percy’s heads jolt up, both of them almost forgetting her presence.

Valarie looks at both of them for more answers, her innocent face looking fretful.

“Well, that is what I am assuming for now. Until the White Women complete their examinations, we will not know for sure.” He informs her.

Valarie slides off the bench and walks up to the two of them, her arms neatly folded across her stomach as if she’s about to be sick. “Have the White Women seen anything like this before?”

Percy nods. “That is what they said, whether it is true or not, they have far greater knowledge of death than I do. Most of the White Women are centuries old.”

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