Chapter Three - Lillian
“Home!” I yelled. I waited for Azazel to walk in so I could close and lock the door and he shifted uncomfortably.
“What are you hanging around for?” I asked, crossing my arms impatiently.
“You need to invite me in,” He replied.
“What are you, a vampire?” I asked, eyebrow raised in amusement.
“That's one word, I prefer the term demon,” He said. I stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds.
“Who are you talking to dear?” Dad said, appearing in our cramped hallway.
“This is Azazel, his parents kicked him out. Can he stay here for the night?” I asked, hoping I'd been right.
“Of course, I'll grab the spare blankets from the cupboard. Come on in.” Dad quickly went about putting the faded blankets onto our sunken sofa. Then he raced back to the kitchen where I could smell food cooking.
“Where's mum?” I asked, collapsing onto the sofa. Azazel seemed pretty content to stand and observe silently.
“Working late again,” Dad replied. I heard something start to boil. I guessed it was some kind of stew again tonight.
“Ah,” was all I could say. Because mum worked late a lot of the time. To be honest I didn't even know why I bothered to ask. I knew she was working on something serious. So serious she had to visit big guys on level ten. But she's always been working on important projects, ever since I was little. I barely know her, dads the one who raised me.
“Follow me,” I said to Azazel. I went back into the cramped hallway and up the stairs. My room was the smallest but it had an emergency stairwell next to the window so at least I could sit outside and get some freshish air whenever I wanted. I closed the door and turned to face Azazel.
“If you're a vampire that means you need-”
“Blood,” Azazel finished for me. I felt a slight shudder go down my spine. I really wanted to believe this was a bad dream. But everything was too realistic. Plus when I scratched my hand on the stone, it hurt
“So what are you going to do?” I asked. Because there was no way he was drinking off me or anyone else in my family.
“I'll sneak out during the night, don't worry. I mean no harm to you or your family,” He said. But the reassurance I should've felt wasn't really there.
“You need to explain what's going on. Right now,” I said. Crossing my arms and fixing him with my best serious face.
“Honestly? I have no clue. Last thing I recall is dying. Then suddenly your blood reaches me and I wake up. The only way that could've happened was if a witch cast some kind of spell. But then that would mean only someone with gifted blood could break it, or complete it. Depends on the spell they cast,” Azazel finished, taking a breath I doubt he actually needed.
“Witch's? Spells? Gifted blood? It all sounds like a fairytale. What were you even doing in the museum?” I asked.
“I don't know. Because they would've carved a warning on my tomb,” Azazel replied. I remembered the scrawled words that I'd been trying to read the moment before I grazed my hand.
“I guess rich and powerful also means stupid,” I muttered. Because that was the only reason I could think of to explain the big guys on level ten keeping Azazel.
“They did take the warning into account. You were in a sealed off area. I ignored the warning signs...” I trailed off.
“Well...that was dumb, but I'm still grateful you woke me up,” Azazel replied. I sent him a glare for the insult. Not that he cared.
“I woke you up...does that mean I have witchy blood?” I asked.
“Gifted,” he corrected. “And most likely.”