Hate by K.A Knight
Ifeel her need, it calls to me. Echoing through my head and heart. The urge to rush to my mate’s side is so strong I actually step from the forest. My little monster wants for nothing, yet here she is. Needing me, needing to feed and to fuck and I am not there. I have trust in the fallen, but she is my everything and I am done waiting on the side lines.
I did not become the fabled Cernunnos to hide amongst the trees when the soul I have been waiting for since birth is in need. Turning my head to meet the eyes of the animals waiting for orders, I send the whispers into their head. Giving them instructions on what to do. I have two plans in place.
Give me a minute, I am good.
Give me an hour, I am amazing.
Give me days? I am unstoppable. I could raze this world to the ground and walk amongst the ashes until I found her.
One way or another, the next time I walk free from that house it will either be with my mate or dead. Once they know their roles, I turn back to the house. The early morning light is warming the world, cutting through the dark where humans believe monsters hide.
But monsters don’t just work in the dark, no, they live in the light. Amongst you, hiding in plain sight. I am done hiding. Dawn is mine and I am getting her back. I stood by and did nothing once, and all that was left was the empty husks of the people I once cared about.
If I have to become that monster, the one the world fears, to save my mate, then I will. I will gladly feast on their fears as I kill them. I promised myself never again, but when your mate’s life hangs in the balance, nothing matters. Not fear of yourself, not promises. Just her.
The world is silent, an eerie stillness as if it is holding its breath for what I will do. I know there is something special about my little monster, something destined, and it seems I am part of that destiny now. Actions have consequences and I can feel the fates’ keen eyes locked on me, waiting, wondering.
Maybe this is the reason for my creation, mystics are made for a purpose. The old gods were made to create the races, others were built for a pivotal point in history, but me? I have been waiting...waiting for now?
Dawn is my reason. I will do my duties by the fates and pray they let me live through it to spend a lifetime or two with my mate.
I step from the forest, ready for what is thrown my way. My decision is made, I will pay whatever the consequence may be. As long as my moments are by her side, nothing else matters.
I feel it then, the warm brush of the fates, they whisper to me of destinies and prophecies before blowing away with the wind, and I know I have made the right choice. I am meant to be here, as is Dawn...for what purpose?
We will find out together.
The gravel crunches under my feet as I head to the front gates and wait. Legs spread and head tilted back, I feel the brush of their magic as they try to assess who and what I am. I allow it and I feel them pull back instantly. Shock reverberates through the air.
The gates open like I knew they would, they would not dare deny me access. They once asked me to sit on the council, but being a mystic meant I had no one to represent, and it would have been wrong of me. It did not stop them from trying, and I ultimately walked away and never looked back...so for me to be here?
They are scared of what it means.
I can feel it, taste it on the breeze as I walk up the drive, past the water feature. I sense the bond connected to Dawn pointing downwards, but I do not head there instantly, it would only begin a war. No, for now I will play the political game.
I also feel Griffin, he’s angry and in pain, the norm for the fallen.
I brush along his mind and I sense him look up in shock and confusion, but I simply pull back and leap up the steps as the front door to the council house opens. There, standing in the doorway, is Amos, head of the council. He is ruffled, I can tell it immediately. His suit is wrinkled, his cane is held tightly in his right hand, and his eyes are narrowed and lips thin.
“Cernunnos, to what do we owe this pleasure?” He sniffs, probing for information, but I flare out my power and push him back. He stumbles from the force, his face flashing in anger before he smooths it and lifts his chin defiantly. I will not get away with that again, to snub his question was simply etiquette and a proof of power, but to attack him again would suggest I am an enemy and the council would be within their rights to kill me on sight.
The dance of politics begins.
“I simply wished to visit our council and offer my assistance in the case of the missing females,” I rumble, bowing my head slightly to show that I still see him as the leader. “You are looking into it, are you not?”
“Well, I am afraid that is private council business—”
“Of course, I ask merely because others have been coming to me with their worries. May I come in?” I inquire with a small smile.
I watch as he tries to come up with a retort, a way to block my entrance, but he can’t. I am here with help, and though we both know it hides ulterior motives, he can’t call me out for it without breaking etiquette and suggesting I am a spy, which would give me cause to challenge his leadership. His throne is balanced on shaky ground, he needs no more shaking to topple him from it and he recognises that.
Stepping back, he allows me to pass and I stop in the entryway, looking around at the obvious grandeur they are projecting. “I see you have redecorated, it could do with some more nature in my opinion, it would make you seem less…” I look over my shoulder at him, allowing my eyes to flash white, a simple slight. “Dead inside.”
His face scrunches up, and I can actually see his eagle feathers ruffling as I turn away. Without being invited, I head to the lounge on the right, making myself at home as I wander around the room. Picking up artefacts and mementoes from history. I hear him follow me, his power washing through the room in a petty display. If only he knew that his tiny drop of power did not even match me on my weakest days, I wonder if he would try to kill me now or later.
Later is my guess, while I was sleeping.
Those kinds of assassinations and subterfuge are the council’s game, everything is done behind your back. They smile to your face while their servants plunge the dagger there. “Care to share why you are here and not playing god in your little forest?” he sneers.
“I have already informed you, I had people come to me with concerns on how the council was handling the missing women. I wanted to offer my services as you seem to be struggling,” I drawl, and then turning around, I throw myself onto the sofa, taking a note from Griffin’s book, making sure to put my dirty boots up on the pristine white sofa. “As always my service is open for our esteemed leaders.”
“How touching, but it is not needed.” He sniffs, still standing in the doorway.
“No? Well, I will stay for a few days just to ensure that, if you don’t mind. Unless you have something to hide?”
I see his cheeks bulge as he grinds his teeth. “The council hides nothing and to speculate that we are is treason.”
“No speculation, just ensuring,” I clarify, and then rise so quickly he jerks back. “Do not worry, I remember my way around. I don’t need an escort.”
“Do not think because you are a mystic,” he spits, “that it means you get special favour. We are in charge, not you, false god.”
Stepping closer, I peer down at him, letting him feel my power. “Then lead, your people are waiting for answers. I suggest you give it to them before there is unrest. It wouldn’t be good for your life expectancy, I assume.”
Sweeping past him, I start to whistle as I explore the house. I can feel his rage thundering through the walls. He does not like having me here, which means he does have something to hide other than my mate—the question is, what?
I spend the next few hours mapping the house before finding a spare guest room, already made up for when people such as myself stop by. It is on the third floor—I picked the chamber farthest from the council members in the west wing to conceal what I am truly doing. Slinking into the white fur rug before the golden mantle, I cross my legs and place my hands on my knees as I close my eyes.
Letting my mind clear, ignoring the tug in my lower belly urging me to find our mate, I spread out my senses, searching for disturbances or any magic to find what they are hiding.
The dungeons are blocked, as I expected, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to contain the monsters of our world down there. The first floor is empty, so I keep going, but every floor I find is vacant bar the magic of the supernaturals here. The council no doubt feels me, but how can they question what I am doing?
They can’t.
Tipping up my lips, I expand my senses across the grounds. I find more nephilim out back in what looks like a bunk house. Sweeping past that I keep going, searching, pushing my power until sweat breaks out on my brow.
Just when I am about to pull back, I feel something. The edge of something...power. Stretching out my tendrils, I poke them and they react, swirling with dangerous black magic. It is shielding something, something big at the edge of the property. A building. I glimpse a silver door built into the ground before I am blocked.
It’s strong...and ancient. So old that I can’t break through the shrouding. What is locked behind that door? And why is it protected with wards that I haven’t seen used in over a decade? Does it have something to do with my mate? Or the missing women?
The more I find, the more questions I have.
What is the council doing...and how are we entangled in this web?
