Fretting - Clarissa's POV

I was sat in my room, practicing to mold a small rock into the shape of a heart. It was suspended in midair, when I felt the ripple of energy. I growled, letting the stone drop. Opening to door, I ran down two flights of stairs, to where Dylan was groaning, wings out, face down on the floor. He was shaking, like he was in pain. His wings disappeared, and I gently rolled him oer, placing his head in my lap.

Ripping the bottom of my top, I carefully dripped cold water onto it, before folding it, and laying it on his head. He was warm enough to be human, and for a vampire, that's a pretty high temprature. He seemed to be in pain, growling and snarling.

I hushed him softly. T.K. came out of her house; opposite from Dylan's. She had an almost grave look on her face, but one of relieve in her eyes.

"Rissa, let him bite you. You're a witch, you won't transform." She said. I placed my hand against Dylan's mouth, and he bit down on it, hard. I winced, and crawled away, keeping my injured hand close to me, as Dylan rolled onto his side, shrieking, and coughing up blood.

"I do wish you'd told me what you were going to do first, my friend." I sighed. I believe she had just made a contract with him. He could only taste her blood now. "You know what i'm going to have to do now, right?

"Do it." She said. I took her right hand. Type A's have to mark both black bloods that  share a contract, since  only they could use fire in the black blood soceity, unles another black blood used illegal means of getting those powers.

Carefully, I tracd the shape of an inverted pentacle on her hand, before splaying my fingers out. The symbol appeared, and T.K. winced at the searing pain. The glow dropped away, and the symbol became black. I did the same to the now unconscious Dylan, but placing it on his left shoulder.  He gave a screech, just after I'd finished, and I began to fret.

"Oh great, I've hurt him twice in the last five minutes. Oh, what if he doesn't like me? Oooohh..." I moaned. T.K. glanced at me.

"Shouldn't be worrying about that now. You come of age in a week." She smirked at me. Coming of age meant that my mother and father would be celebrating for weeks, and that they would try and find a suitable consort for me. It was how Type A and B witches did it. Type C's were lucky. At least they actually got to choose from anyone tone they wanted. We were given a small selection, and told to choose.

"Aw crap."

The End

36 comments about this exercise Feed