Swords Heir- 1

The fresh scent of blood in the air twists knots in my stomach. I’ve always hated the sight and the smell of blood. The metallic coppery aroma stings my nose. My gaze lingers on the three blood-covered bodies on the ground. As someone who has spent all her life learning how to kill, I should definitely be used to this now. I sigh loudly and run my fingers through Azrael’s dark silky fur. His eyes were wide as he pulled his ears back, a vibrating growl deep in his chest sounded as he intently looked into the near distance. Red blood dripped from his fangs.His warning ensured that we were not alone. Crap, I knew I was forgetting something. From far away, I appear small and harmless, somebody you could take advantage of, that is until you find yourself half-dead, bleeding out on the floor with my heaven colored blazing eyes as the last thing you ever see. God, I hate early mornings. The rising sun casts a rosy hue across the morning sky and I realized I was late. I quickly turned around and threw an energy-manipulated knife at the lingering shadow behind us. It impaled the man in his neck, and he dropped to the floor. Disgusting yet satisfying. As I remove my knife from the lingering stranger’s throat, a familiar, smoky voice sounds behind me.

“Well, aren’t you having fun this morning.” Quentin chuckled.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his stupid remark “I promise you this isn’t my idea of fun...”

I looked up at him and Quentin smirked as he pushed his golden-brown hair back to reveal his amber brown eyes as they shone with the glare of the rising sun.

“You do realize you’re late right.” he unhelpfully added. I elbowed him lightly in the side as I walked past him ignoring his words. Azrael followed behind; Az hasn’t been a fan of Quentin since he kicked him like a football when we were seven.

The three of us made it back to Astros Province as the sun made its way perfectly over the horizon. I said goodbye to Q, and he made his way to basic while I made my way to Fallon Belmonts office. After my “jobs” I’m required to notify him of my completed mission. I strolled down the long hallways of the old abandoned mansion we live in, being accompanied by Azrael. We arrive at the tall cedar door, my hand clasps around the cold metal handle. I opened the door to find Fallon Belmont at his kitchen table reading a book I don’t recognize.

“Ms. Belmont, you’re late.” His toneless voice sends shivers down my spine.

“I know sir, it took longer than expected,” I replied.

“I don't want to hear you make excuses. I won’t tolerate you being late again.” he started. I nod in response. “You may skip basic this morning, you reek of blood.”

“Yes, sir.” I leave the room and make my way towards the barracks.

As cold and evasive as Fallon may seem towards me, he’s like this towards everyone. I can't remember a time where we were close. The same fateful night I lost a father, he lost a brother. Linc and Esme Belmont. I remember that night like no other. The explosion. My mother had held me so close she smelled like primrose and honey. I saw them killed in front of my own two eyes. I saw the life drain out of their eyes as I cradled their heads, crying so much my eyes stung. The only reason they left me alive was that my existence was unknown to him. The King of Northern Belanoster. My parents’ murderer.

When I arrived at our debilitated mansion I headed straight to my room. Flicking the light switch on the wall, the spotlights above the sloped ceiling casted a bright light. My room was an absolute mess. It consisted of my clothes from previous days spread haphazardly around my floor to the point where you could barely see the hardwood. My pine plywood bookshelf was a convoluted mess. Azrael barked and brushed past me as he walked towards his bed. He stretched, shook himself and circled several times before dropping to the bed. I wasted no time and headed straight for the shower.

I stayed in the shower long enough that it ran out of hot water. I pulled out my favorite pair of black sweatpants and a baseball jersey. Let’s go Mets. I hate the Mets. How ironic. I stare at myself in my mirror examining my new scars and bruises, and the ones from battles before. I gaze at the reflection on the glass surface only a moment more before yanking my attention away. I had no desire to confront my battered reflection at the moment. I resort to examining around my room and see Azrael fast asleep making a low snoring noise.

Walking out of my room I realize how empty my stomach feels. After this morning I can't say I have much of an appetite for anything. Walking to the fridge, I started to contemplate if I should eat anything. I knew the contents of the fridge each time, yet for twenty minutes I proceeded to repetitively look in the fridge thinking something new would appear. Boredom overtook my compulsive need to walk to the fridge, so I sat in my favorite spot in the living room. My window seat had the perfect angle to watch TV and you could see the garden from the window. It was far enough away from the other sofas that everyone would forget you were there and not talk to you. I picked up my book I had set aside, Invitation to a Beheading, and started to read. Sitting there I wasn't really reading, more distracted by the distant clouds, then from outside, from behind I heard the opening and closing of the front door.

“God Clay, sometimes you talk and I have a serious urge to choke you.” Adelia snapped.

“Shut the hell up Addy, you're not my favorite person either,” Clay hissed back.

Adelia and Clay are some of the most annoying people I believe to be alive on the face of this earth. They were my first friends, the first people other than Fallon, and my parents to accept me for who I truly was. Adelia notices my existence after punching Clay in the arm.

“Jeez, Addy, that was a little much no?” Quentin asked.

“Look he's smiling he's totally fine,” Adelia responded.

Quentin laughed and rolled his eyes “He's smiling because he's terrified.”

“I'm smiling because I'm thinking of the moment I can beat the crap out of you and not get in trouble. Now shut up before you become a casualty.” Clay retorted. We all laughed hysterically. It was one of our more beautiful conversations, and at that moment I realized how we all look after each other. We all have different reasons for being here, none of us are related, but we are a family.

Adelia beamed at me as her vindictive champagne-colored eyes twinkled. Her body was littered with scars from past traumas, she was a living tapestry of near misses and fights. Clay was a shaggy-haired mess. His sarcasm could make you think he truly hates you. And then there's Quentin, our rock. He's probably the only reason we haven't all killed each other yet. They're like my family, my extremely dysfunctional chaotic family.

“Hey Morg, Noir invited us to the Blitz tonight you up for it?” Adelia asks as she quickly glances over my new scars. I gave a half shrug and a dismissive wave while picking at my fingernails. I knew no matter what I said she would force me to go anyway. Clay cursed quietly.

“Guys were late, Atticus is going to actually slit our throats,” Clay said as he ran to his room to get ready. Everyone realized the time and started to scramble to get ready. After we were all ready we ran towards the sixth floor to Atticus’s class. Atticus was the scariest teacher we had, he wouldn't hesitate to destroy the classroom and our self-esteem in rage. He hated us all with a burning passion. We got there right on time to find Atticus flipping over a desk.

“HOW HARD IS IT TO COME TO MY CLASS ON TIME.” He screamed. We all stared at each other, our eyes wide in terror. He looked especially mad today. No one dared to make a sound.

“NO ANSWER HUH. ALL I ASK IS FOR YOU TO COME TO CLASS ON TIME NO LESS, AND YOU INSOLENT CHILDREN CAN'T EVEN HANDLE THAT. SIT THE HELL DOWN YOU IMPERTINENT TRASH.” We all ran to our seats. Atticus then proceeded to yell at us about our ill-mannered behavior for two hours. By then class was over. He blamed it on us that we didn't learn anything. Honestly, we were all scared to try and get up to leave. But low and behold he yelled at us to get out of his classroom. It was late afternoon now. Clay suggested we train in the fourth wing. Quentin and Adelia were too tired so they headed back to the barracks. Clay and I made our way to the training wing.

“You wanna spar?” I asked Clay. He looked over at me and nodded with a soft smile. He walked towards his locker to get his favorite sword. He named it Skull Cleaver for obvious reasons. Both of us stepped into the battle ring. Energy pulsated through my fingers. It flowed throughout my fingertips and what came from it was an energy manipulated sword. Clay and I regarded each other for a few seconds before slowly walking to the right, not taking our eyes off each other. In the blink of an eye, Clay had drawn his sword and ran towards me in quick succession. Our swords clashed. He dipped and weaved right as I was about to reach him and slashed downwards with his sword. With a swift movement, he swiped his legs under mine and I fell to the ground.

I laughed “So we're playing dirty huh.” I jumped up and drew my sword, I slashed at his legs. He stumbled backward. With a swift kick to the chest, I sent him tumbling towards the floor. “That oughta do it. Nervous?”

“Hah you wish,” Clay said. Suddenly his face became raw and focused. He disappeared into thin air. I groaned. A moment later he appeared behind me. I whipped around and held my sword up only a moment before he could get a good hit on me.

“That dirty enough for you?” He asks with a cunning look. Without notice, I pushed his sword towards the left and kicked it out of his hand. I smirked at him. He winked and vanished out of my sight. I look to my left to see him charging at me with his sword. He swiped at my sword and knocked it out of my hand, then he went for my face. We just stared at each other. A small pain resided on the left side of my face. I wiped the blood from my check and picked up my sword. His eyes followed me and he pointed his sword against my neck. Clay tilted my head up with the tip of his sword to get a better look at my face.

“Well, at least you're not dead Ace.” Clay chuckled. I rolled my eyes.

“You only won because you cheated. ” I softly laughed. We both start to make our way back to the barracks. I look up towards the opaque skylight. By now the sun has already set and the stars above me twinkle like thousands of diamonds suspended on an ebony backdrop. We opened the door to the barracks to find Adelia and Quentin dancing and scream-singing to some Cage the Elephant song. Adelia's short aubergine hair was pulled back with a gold ship hair clip. She was wearing a red mini dress. Quentin was wearing a white button-down shirt with black pants. He had a suave look on his face. I went to my room, pulled my hair back, and took another shower. Afterward, I put on my dark purple mini dress. When I came out of my room I found Adelia, Quentin, and Clay waiting at the front door.

“Common the limousines outside,” Adelia said.

“Where the hell did we get a limo from?” I respond.

“Oh, just from Clay’s sugar daddy,” Adelia smirked at Clay.

He stuck up his middle finger at her and said “He's not my sugar daddy you putz.” Adelia gave him a mysterious little smile and chuckled. We followed A outside to the limousine in the front. Inside the seats were lined with multicolored lights, and a small disco ball spun in the center of it all. I sat on the leather seat next to Quentin. The partition between us and the driver was closed, and the windows were tinted, but not dark enough where you couldn't see outside. I stepped out of the back of the limousine in a daze. Everything had been just a giant blur. When we showed up at the club it was at that point full, with a line out front that looked several blocks long, Adelia strolled directly past everyone and headed right to the front to grin at the cumbersome man holding the clipboard.

“We’re on the list. Sponsor's name is Miller.” The man looked at the list on the clipboard, snorted, then waved them in. Adelia looked over her shoulder quickly and motioned for us to follow her. Inside the Blitz was dark, lit simply by the turning lights overhead that caught everything in a purple and blue and silver, bewildering and extraordinary. The body heat of the other people hit me like a wave, the only real thing I could focus on was Adelia's grip on my wrist as we swam through the pulsating groups. Adelia was nearly covered up by the overabundance of individuals around them, everybody drinking and hopping and granulating to the cadence of whatever the DJ played. It was thoroughly confusing, and I was breathless when we broke free on the opposite side of the dancefloor. Addy drove us up a spiral staircase.

At the top, there was a circular table with silken seats. There was even a velvet rope drawn over the gate with a sign saying reserved. There sat Noir Miller. An arctic blue-eyed beauty with white hair that he decided to dye because it's “ironic”. He was sitting there, all in a gentleman position, with a black suit. He grinned when he saw us and pulled a container out of the ice can and poured every one of us a glass of gleaming champagne. Noir went after me pulling me forward by the wrist to press a champagne woodwind into my hands with a request to drink up. I was inclined to comply. God, it was so hot and crowded in here. I don't know how long we've been here. I get up to go find Addy. I walked down the set of spiral stairs and found Quentin with some random girl pressed against the wall. His hands were on her neck and waist.

“Ew, dude common,” I muttered. I grabbed the back of his shirt collar and dragged him along with me. He groaned and shook himself from my grasp.

"You ruined everything..." he hissed, his eyes fixated blankly on me.

"Wonderful." I sneered back. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Roughly like twelve.” He said.

“You can’t be rough about it, I want a specific time. Don’t tell me roughly, tell me…” I paused trying to think of a word. “...smoothly”

“I don’t think that’s a thing”

“If I say it’s a thing then it’s a thing.” We head back towards our reserved corner and find Clay and Noir there. I grabbed the champagne bottle and sat next to Noir. I chugged half the bottle. From below we saw the dance floor circle around two men. One of the men with brown hair stepped back, balancing the weight on his left foot. He threw his right fist out in a curved punch at the other man's temple. He turned to find the other man's fist coming straight for his face. The other man with blonde hair punched him square in the face. The brown-haired man had a bloody nose now. He was in trouble. Quentin looked over at me as I was standing up to go help him.

“That's not a good idea M, don't you think you've had too much to drink?” He questioned.

I looked at him, my mouth curved into a smile. “I don't need alcohol to make bad decisions.”