Page 12 of Finn
The knocking became more insistent, thudding into my skull with an urgency that warned me not to delay.
I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and opened the door.
Gael’s face greeted me, his lips curling into a sinister smile, fangs gleaming as he lunged.
I was still half-entranced by my dream of another time, another place, and I hadn’t expected the ambush.
His cold, powerful hands wrapped around my neck, forcing me back onto the floor, his weight crushing down on my chest.
As undead, we didn’t need to breathe, but our necks were still vulnerable.
Beric, our master and sire, allowed us to tear each other apart as long as it didn’t end in death.
The chill of Gael’s grip was a brutal reminder of my place in the hierarchy, of the jealous, ruthless rivalries that made this place feel like a warzone.
I shook off the last haze of sleep and slammed my knee into his ribs.
The force broke his grip, and he snarled, but he wasn’t done.
Gael had nursed a grudge ever since Beric had taken me to the Queen’s court a fortnight ago. It was a coveted position he’d held for over a century before I’d arrived.
And Gael, for all his centuries of experience, had grown entitled to that privilege.
I met his eyes, brimming with anger and dark determination, and for the first time since my transformation, I didn’t hold back.
In my former life, restraint had been second nature, but here, amongst monsters, there was no need.
Here, power was everything.
Gael and I went at each other like feral animals, exchanging blows that would have left mortals mangled and broken, but only left us bleeding and furious.
Eventually, with the taste of copper in my mouth and the satisfying scent of his blood on my hands, he spat a curse and finally rolled off me.
We lay sprawled on the cold floor, glaring at each other, chests heaving. His gaze held nothing but hatred and venom.
I knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t stop until he saw me as ashes, six feet under.
Then again, maybe that was just the way things worked here. Peace was a luxury none of us could afford.
Gael spit out blood and sneered, his voice thick with distaste. “The master wants to see you in his quarters.”
I took a deep breath, clamping down on the need to throw some clever retort his way. “I see.”
He didn’t leave immediately, lingering to see if I’d rise to his bait. When I stayed silent, he curled his lip in disgust and stalked off.
The wounds I’d inflicted on him were already knitting together, bruises fading as his body restored itself.
Gael had the kind of beauty mortals might swoon over, with his high cheekbones and icy stare.
But I’d come to see him as something cold and sharp. He was beautiful only from a distance, like a blade.
Before I went to Beric, I cleaned myself up and changed into fresh clothes. My sire placed an almost religious importance on appearances.
"We might be monsters, angel, but we have manners," he’d once told me with that voice of his.
Satisfied I looked presentable, I left my quarters and started the trek to Beric’s chambers on the second floor.
The house itself was vast, more like a manor than a home, surrounded by hundreds of forested acres that concealed it from prying human eyes.
