Elijah

"He's in Gavendel, living in a small two-story house by a bakery. Do you want me to send you the location?" Ethan said on the phone.

"Still there?" My brow rose. "What the fuck is he doing there? I thought he might have moved to another town. It appears he hasn't," I took another large gulp of whiskey and slammed the glass back down on the table.

"He's been there for a few months now. It doesn't looks like he's moving away any time soon. Surprisingly, I spoke to the town authorities and there hasn't been any reports of murders or random deaths—"

I stopped hearing Ethan's voice when I found Vivian walking down the stairs, striding in her perfect bare legs while her top was covered with thin piece of shirt. My attention quickly diverted.

"Send me the location. That's all." I drew the phone away from my ears and poured another glass of whiskey for myself.

"Did you find out?" She asked, trailing me as I went to find another place in the empty house to sit and have my drink. "Oh, stop ignoring me. If you did find out where that man is, I think we should go together. We can have another road trip and we can also get his blood at the same time." By now, she was practically straining to sound casual.

With a smirk, I couldn't help but retort, "Well, aren't you just the picture of sweetness? But let's not pretend we're suddenly best friends, Vivian. I'm going alone and I certainly don't want you coming with me."

"You're still pissed at me." She folded her arms across her chest.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of my whiskey before responding. "I wouldn't say pissed. Let's just say I prefer working solo. No offense, of course."

She huffed, the annoyance evident on her face. "Fine, have it your way."

"I will."

With that, I walked away, leaving her standing there, arms still crossed and a mix of irritation and disappointment painted on her face. It was high time I stopped dealing with her nuance and focused on breaking the curse.

The masquerade ball was two days away and Vivian wanted to enter the throne room on the same night where we'll all be masked. It was a great opportunity to slip in and out with anyone noticing her, especially my mother. However, before the ball, we needed to have Grayson's blood.

It was his location I was seeking earlier from Ethan as he was my eyes and ears everywhere.

Mixing all our blood together inside something in the throne room where my grandfather spelled us first was going to break the curse, and free us all from it. Once free, I could easily head my way without any trouble.

Callan was sent on the mission to find a way into the throne room. I wasn't completely sure if I could, as many things had changed in the past thirty years—which was also the last time I was in my mother's castle.

Gavendel was where Grayson was last seen. He had been staying there for a while now and it was confusing why. He never stayed in one place, always moving, always shifting. He was a lone wolf and preferred it that way, it fed onto his blood thirst, his desperation to stack dead bodies and kill anyone he saw on his path.

He was a brutal murderer, but before he became that, we were close acquaintances and he worked at the court, as an Alpha, similar to Dion.

Sometimes, I wondered if it was the curse that ruined us all.

Upon arriving in Gavendel, I tread carefully through the roads, finding the house where Grayson was living in.

I found the house in a matter of a few minutes. It was next to a bakery, just as I had been told. It was a modest two-story structure, with a slightly overgrown garden out front and vines crawling up its brick walls. The curtains were heavy, forbidding anyone to see inside.

Making past the gate, I went straight to the main door which was slightly opened. The sound of music drifted out from the crack and I hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether I should knock or simply let myself in.

Ultimately, I pushed the door open and walked in.

The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, betraying my silence as I wandered around the house. At first sight, it appeared to be empty until I found several women lying naked on their backs, with their legs in the air, drinking and partying at this time of the day.

"Mhm, a visitor!" One of them rose up and thrust herself against the couch.

"Yes," Another one lowered the music from the radio and walked near to me. "What do you want, Mister?"

They were mortals—just plain and naked mortals.

I looked away, my eyes wandering around the house, searching for Grayson. It was a surprise he hadn't laid bodies of naked women here.

"Elijah fucking Sven," I heard him behind me, his voice still a distant memory in my head. "My prince." I turned around and found him, clearly drunk and bowing down to me.

"Oh, are you really a prince?" One of the women asked while placing her hand on me.

I grabbed her wrist and stepped back, "Yes, of the devil's."

"Always so formal," Grayson rose up and said, taking a swing from a bottle in his hand. "But you weren't like that before. Are the royal duties tying up your panties?"

"Sober up. We've to talk and it's important." I grabbed the bottle from his hands and gave it to one of the women behind me before taking Grayson and walking away from the scene.

Grayson stumbled a few times before he finally found his balance, leaning on me for support. We walked in a smaller sitting room and I sat him down before sitting opposite of him.

"I need a few minutes to sober up." He closed his eyes and leaned back before taking large deep breaths.

I waited patiently as he took his time. A werewolf could sober up in minutes if he had to. Alcohol didn't really do much to them, or night-eaters. I ran my hand through my hair while crossing my legs. I could still hear the voices of the girls outside, dancing and singing to the low music playing.

What was he even doing with them?

"Okay, prince. I'm sober now," Grayson said, his voice clearer. "What brings you here, to me? How did you even know where I was?"

"I have a few people..."

His eyes were different, the monster within him was suppressed, I couldn't see it. For the first time I couldn't see it.

"Who are those girls outside? And why haven't you killed them?" I questioned him to clear out my own curiosity.

"I don't kill anymore. It's been a couple months but I've gotten a new muse. It helps me not to kill innocent people—most of the time." He responded in a rather cheerful tone.

A new muse.

I was a little surprised. "That's great," I cut to the chase. "I came here because I wanted something from you. Your blood."

He laughed at my request and furrowed his brows. "What do you need my blood for? Are you going to do a ritual to bury my inner demons? Trust me, most of them are already gone. I don't need you to do that for me anymore."

"No, no," I shook my head. "It's something else."

I wasn't sure if it was wise to tell the truth to someone like him. But since he appeared changed, I didn't mind.

"There was a curse that was placed on us a hundred years ago, and it connects us all together. It has to do something with the mark of the pentacle that we all share—"

"All?"

"There are few people involved in this. I know them from when I used to live in Vragas and you know them too," His expression changed as I spoke, but that didn't stop me. "We found a way to break the curse and we need blood of everyone who's cursed, including yours."

He leaned back into the couch, deep in thought. Conflict appeared in his eyes as he tried to make sense of my words.

"And what happens if the curse isn't broken? I mean—is there a disadvantage?"

"Yeah, we'll die on the first full moon of next year." I avoided sharing the details of who put the curse or how the curse actually connected us, or the people that were involved.

His eyes widened in shock from the information alone. "How much do you need?"

"Just a small vial will do. Enough to mix with everyone else's blood." I replied, relieved that he seemed willing to help. On the drive here, I thought differently—I thought I might have to force it out of him.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the vial and handed it over to him. Without any delay, he made a small cut over his palm and filled up the vial with his blood before returning it to me.

"Should I be worried? I'm not ready to die."

"Don't be," I placed the vial into my coat and shook my head. "It's all being handled. Just stay put and don't kill anyone, unless you've a reason for it."

He chuckled, "Well, I have stopped. Do you not believe me?"

"I do—"

My words were cut off by Grayson suddenly standing up from the couch and interrupting me. "Come on, I'll prove to you what has happened to me. Maybe then you'll believe me that I've stopped killing people. I no longer have that hunger anymore."

"I worry for you. That is all."

He led me out of the room either way and up the stairs to the second floor and then to the room at the end of the hall.

"Don't worry about me, prince. I'm sane, the sanest I've been in forever," He reached the door and shuffled with his keys before finding the right one and putting it inside the keyhole. "It's a curious thing you see," he continued, turning the key and opening the door with a creak, "there's this woman who has completely taken hold of my mind. I cannot escape from her, she's my muse. I find myself painting and drawing her, and even in my dreams, she is there, always there."

Opening the door, I inhaled paints, lots of alcohol and chemicals. Inside, the room was filled with canvases and papers, all scattered.

Grayson switched on the white lights inside the room, letting me see his muse that was painted and drawn over every piece of paper and canvas that hung on the wall.

The woman, her eyes were a deep emerald green and her hair black, cascading down her shoulders and back in soft waves.

Vivian.

Grayson stood beside me, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched my expression. "Do you see now, prince? This is my salvation. This is what has saved me from the darkness that once consumed me. I'm at peace now."

I picked up one of the sketches and found Vivian, again. She was here, everywhere, on every single fucking piece of paper and canvas.

This was the result of her black magic.

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