The Vampire's Passion

Whisperia loves her best friend, Drake, but can't stand his plots for revenge when they go too far, so when he threatens to harm her friends for the ultimate revenge a revenge that some don't come unscathed from, it's the Vampire's passion against a feisty witch.


7. Cherry Blossoms(6)

Chapter 6

Dean's Point of View

I was barely awake when they came for us. I was ready to pass out for the night; It was past the time they sometimes gave us food, it was cold, and we wanted to get a much sleep as possible, incase we ever got the chance to escape.

I remember seeing her shadow yanking me up and tying my wrists, hissing in my ear to shut up and be quiet while she struggled to put a blindfold over my eyes. I heard Rena snap at someone else.

I heard Whispereia telling her partner(someone she called Vlad) to stop talking and responding to Rena, they were waiting time.

I didn't hear Ben at all. All I hear was the jeering of her partner, calling Rena 'deadweight' and Ben, 'a dead omega'.

All through this I couldn't talk, I felt my lips open and close, but it was like someone was squeezing my lungs, not letting me talk for my life.

It seemed like we were walking forever. I hadn't even noticed when they walked into the cell, I doubt the others did either. We were all too hungry and tired to care or notice, even if we had heard the door open, I doubt we could make a run for it.

As dragged us along in a line, me in the front, Rena occasionally stepping on my heel, I tried to remember how we turned.

Right, Left, Right, Right, Two flights of stairs, Left, Left, a loooong ways straight, then it was all a blur.

A combinations of left and rights, the smell of oil burning clouding my senses. I even tried 'tugging' on a signal to Rena or even Noah, but if they heard me, they didn't respond.

I cut the signal, but I couldn't even smell the cherry blossoms, the smell that always left me comforted by telepathy.

I gave up eventually, that's when it happened.

I was filled with the sweet but sour taste of Grapefruit, the slight smell of sugar filling my noses. I almost thought it was Rena, but I knew who it was.

It wasn't a smell or a mind I'd connected to for abut 4 or more years. It was a mind I used to be able to recognize even before the colors appeared.

The vibrant pinks and oranges, the red and blacks, with the slight grays and white. A whole rainbow to describe one mind.

"Whisperia." I thought, sighing the name, like she was my savior not my co-captor.

I felt her smile, a mix of blue and pink, cotton candy colors.

"Hi...Dean." She said, her thoughts muddled.

There was a wall between me and her real colors, the soft pinks and Light reds, with my favorite color; the storm-cloud gray that let my brain think it was her eyes.

"Listen," she thought urgently, "I don't have much time, before Vladimir picks up on this." I could almost hear her breath, a shaky shudder.

"What is it, Will-o-wisp?" I asked, my brain automatically teasing the familiar mind. I almost felt her smile.

"Whatever you do, don't trust Drake. He may sound truthful, but. he even keeps secrets from me," she paused, the emptiness in my mind weighing me down.

"He's up to something. Something bad. And when it comes to your final moments," her shaky shudder was like sobs in my ear, "I won't be able to help you much longer. This is all I can do."

Then she was gone, and this time, the cherry blossoms weren't a comfort, they were a pain, a heavy hole in my chest.

"Whisper!!' The Vladimir guy called, wrenching me into reality. We were still walking, but slower now. We must be getting close.

"I'm going ahead." Whispereia said, her voice harsher than her thoughts. Her voice confident, and smug.

"Why?" Vladimir asked her.

"I want to help Angel with the prep." She said, and then, I could hear her walking past me, her hair, touching my cheek as her scent, her sweet smell passed me.

I almost felt like grabbing her, and asking her why she was doing this, what was all this about, but I couldn't.

I was just locked up to two other people, I was only a disposable puppet, and she was the puppeteer, unsure of whether to toss me or save me.

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