LIfe of a SuperNatural: Book 1b Felicity's Story

"All around me, friend after friend is consumed by the fire. The flames laugh and cajole me to join them as they murder those I love. Soon they are gone and I am alone as ash falls like snow.
My eyes snap open. It is only 3:09 AM. I take deep breaths to calm myself. I am so close to finishing my mission and I must remain in control of my emotions and powers. It's my only option."


Felicity has been alive for a long time. On the run from Zeke ever since his sister, Melanie died. He has gotten much more dangerous now. She's been searching for Melanie's spirit in hopes she can use her to defeat Zeke. Is Melanie Amy? If so does she have to kill the only true friend she has made in a lifetime?



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Author's note

*Please check out the sister story to this book: Life of a SuperNatural: Amy's Story*
AA

2. Chapter Two

Felicity

Fire. Burning. Screams. STOP!

I bolt upright with my mouth open in a silent scream. My heart races and sweat sticks the loose hairs to my face. I know without even looking at the clock that it hasn't even been an hour since I went to sleep. I know it is childish, but I check my surroundings carefully to reassure myself that my demons haven't followed me to the real world. The cabin is small but pleasant. A map fills one wall with a large star over the island of Bermuda and its history plastered on the Atlantic Ocean. The only furniture is a table, a chair, and the bed I had been sleeping in. To my right is the 'kitchen'. It has a tiny fridge and a single stove burner. To my left, a door leads to the bathroom. I am awake and I know it was just a dream but my hands are still shaking and my heart hasn't slowed down. I flick on the light and drag my protesting body to the table. My duffel bag is already open on top of it and within moments I feel the comforting grips of my daggers in my hands. Their familiar weight soothes me and running through a few brief movements calms my mind. I am not a little girl. I am in control of myself. I decide who I hurt and who I don't. I can still see the fire at the edges of my vision and screams are still reverberating through my skull and that horrible smell of charred flesh and smoke still lingers but the bone-deep fear is easing away.

I grab the care kit for my blades and move back to the bed. I avoid looking at the shadowed corners of the room. I have no desire to be further tormented by the conjuring's of my own mind now that I am awake. The daggers are sharp but the edge is wearing down and I need to polish it to prevent rust. A faulty weapon is dangerous in all the wrong ways. Plus the familiar motion will draw my mind away from the past. I unroll the leather case and pick up the first item. I methodically run my whetstone along the edge of the first blade. I slowly carve away the nicks and renew the sharp edge and point. The blade is strong and durable so there aren't many imperfections but that same strength decreases the effectiveness of my whetstone. It takes a small amount of time to restore it to perfect working order. When I am done with it I put it down beside me to work on its sister.

Only a couple of strokes later a voice interrupts my quiet, "Can't sleep Felicity? Who haunts you tonight I wonder?"

My hands' clench and slip from their pattern with his sudden appearance in the cabin. Blood flows onto the blade and onto the bed the distraction nearly causing me to sever my hand. I draw upon the warm feelings of hope and love to the front of my mind. It takes several minutes longer than it should but then my hand is healed and only the blood remains. I can sense his concern and amusement but I stubbornly refuse to acknowledge him. I put the whetstone back and grab a cloth and bottle of water. I wipe the blade free of blood and then wet the cloth to clean my hand. I'll need to replace the bedding before I leave. I return to sharpening my blade. Moving slower this time.

He waits for me to say something but when I still don't he asks, "Is it that girl from Paris?"

I refuse to answer. Finishing sharpening the blade I return my whetstone to its spot and grab a fresh cloth and a small jar that contains the thick, oily, and gritty paste I use to clean, polish and protect the steel. With those ready I use a much smaller blade to cut off the leather wrapped around the handles. Using the cloth to scoop a good amount of the paste out of the jar and begin working it into the steel. Careful to get every inch.

"Is it the old swordsmith? You always clean your weapons when he crosses your mind," he guesses.

I set the first sword aside and scoop more paste to do the second. The jar is almost empty. I'll have to make more soon. I should replace the rags while I'm at it I should get more leather too.

"Then again you always cared more when it was the young ones. Perhaps it's those twins you tried so hard to hide?"

I clench my teeth tightly to hold back the emotion that is rising. I'm not sure if it is a sob or a scream but I refuse to let it out. The next step is wrapping new leather around the hilts. That's the fastest part and it's finished in moments. Focusing, I carefully allow a small amount of my growing anger to escape my hands. The fire briefly lashes along the hilts giving them my unique pattern somewhere between fire and a mist filled with lilies.

My anger at his presence causes me to release to much fire. Some of the leather is burnt away enough to show the steel underneath. He is still taking guesses and each one tears open another of the scars on my heart. How I long to shove one of my blades through the smirk I know he has but I know better by now. It is far better if I pretend I cannot hear him. I reach for the wooden sheaths and my bottle of linseed oil. It has been awhile since I polished them.

"I know! It's not one of my victims is it?" I can hear the growing frustration in his voice.

He has always hated being ignored. Sadistic glee is beginning to overpower his curiosity and twisted concern. My hands are numb and only years of muscle memory keep them polishing the sheaths.

"It's one of yours!"

The cloth is smoldering in my hand and I am deathly still. I clench my teeth tighter. I control my actions. I will not react to him. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"Melanie? No? Is it one of your supposed mercy kills? I've got it! It's your family, isn't it? Tell me can you still hear your baby sister's screams?"

My control snaps. The rag falls from my hand trailing fire behind it. Before it can hit the floor my dagger thuds into the wall where his head was. He is gone with only his malicious laughter remaining. My body trembles with the force of my emotions. I ruthlessly stamp them down before they can tear me apart.

I get up and yank my dagger from the wall. It is only then that I realize where it landed. I start at the hole it left blankly. It is in the exact spot on the map of a town I know the location of far to well even if it's not labeled here. Geheim.

An odd prickle dances down my spine. I know there are no ghosts here other than the ones my own mind evokes to haunt me. I am no psychic but I trust my instincts and it is as good a place to search as any. It's been awhile since I attended their school. My next step decided, I sheathe my daggers and return them to the bottom of the duffel. I repack the kit and call to cancel my original travel plans. With that done I send Maria a message as well as my assistant. I'll need new papers and transportation. My assistant and company will need to be prepared to run without me for awhile.

I have things to do and I won't get any more sleep tonight. My things are packed and ready within the hour. When the teleporter arrives I am startled. She's new. The last one must have retired. The new is young, probably 20 by my estimate. She recognizes me but I don't have a clue who she is. I'm often at Maria's so it is no surprise. The teleporter hesitantly taps my shoulders and we're in New York. It costs a ton to do it this way but I despise planes and I don't have time or patience for another boat trip. I'm relieved to be off that island but that relief does little when I know I'll be going to Geheim next. I push aside all my reservations. I've got a mission to complete.

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