Savage Hearts

Fyre

The world is cruel, but I'm crueler.

If the love of my entire life could choose someone else over me on a night that meant the most to both of us, I deserve to kill more than five thousand people.

I should wage war on the whole world for a hundred more years.

The humiliation never just vanishes; it remains, just as the pain did, the hurt, the betrayal, every minute that passes, every soul taken. I'm reminded of his hollow words; he never meant it.

He never loved me like I did.

I don't even remember who I am anymore. He made a burning queen go cold.

Blood streamed from my eyes as I cried out in agony; the whip I had struck hundreds with in a second fell off from my hand.

A snort came out of my nostrils as I sniffed them back in.

The man I loved, a warlord feared by so many, speaks, and everyone, old and young, listens to him. He controls the northern region and ruled over them; in that icy heart of his, he made a space for me, hot enough to burn, cold enough to endure-the perfect temperature.

We were both gods in our own right.

Like fire to ice, I'd melt him, and he always was pleased with it.

Our love was always doomed, but he assured me that he wasn't like the others who mocked me for being a shadowborne. Who was made out to be an outcast born out of wedlock.

He gave me hope and crushed it under his fist.

The sound of his armored steps was heavy on the blood-soaked floor as he approached me. My head bent low, utterly defeated, waiting to claim the life he once loved and cherished, his war-forged blade's sharp edge poised before me.

I gave myself the chance to speak, as it likely would be the last time I'll have a voice.

"Why didn't you hate me like the others did?" I demanded, surprised by my firmness, thinking it would crack and I'd see myself crying all over again, "You should've done that from the start."

I lifted my head to look him directly in the eyes.

"When they called me a witch, you called me powerful. When they called me dangerous, you told me the world would learn to fear me one day. Now how can you turn your back on me? How can you choose another? How can you-how can you say I was never enough?" I asked brokenly.

"I never said that." His next words came out cold, emotionless, and final.

"You don't need words to speak, Alistair... actions matter. The fact you never once told me... I loved you. Or did that never mean anything to you?" I swallowed my words painfully.

"You knew we were both doomed, yet you fell in love with me. I promised you nothing; those were just the lies you filled your head with. I liked our moments together, Fyre... but I can't love you the way you want."

"Why?"

"You are... You are ..."

"Say it!"

"You are a shadowborne Fyre! And not just any shadowborne..." His voice thundered throughout the hall, his grip tightening around his sword.

I let out a slow, mocking clap.

"I've always been Shadowborne. We do not walk into light. We linger in shadow. And yet... you made me see it differently, you brought me to the light, and I always knew my place. And here you are, pretending like you didn't know. Why? Why now?" My breathing staggered.

"I didn't know your story then, and when I knew, it was too late."

"What story? That I'm a child whose mother, a goddess of nature, had an affair with darkness? Everyone knew that; it's the sole reason why I grew up alone and the reason you got close to me," I spat.

"Fyre, I never got close to you because of that... I just saw you lonely... I should kill you." He averted his gaze when I breathed in deep. "Everyone is waiting for your head."

"Then what are you waiting for? Do it and go receive the glory you've always wanted."

The sword scratched the surface of the floor as he lifted it, ready to strike me down. He whispered aloud, "May we never meet in our next life."

He lied.

For immortals like ourselves, there was no next life.

Fyre

1885

So many years have passed, times have changed, and seasons have come and gone with a new skin, a new name, and a new identity, yet nothing felt like change for me; I remain numb.

I didn't think much of him; in fact, he'd become more of a daunting past I promised myself never to remember.

There were more humans procreating on the earth than there used to be centuries ago.

Supernaturals have gone into hiding due to our overwhelming numbers, a situation I partially contributed to.

I still lived in hiding, trying to fit into how humans act, and I've gotten so used to it after four hundred and twenty years of practice.

The streets were often alive, with carriages on four wheels transported by horses on cobblestone floors and industrial factories annoyingly churning, almost deafening my ears every single time.

What I've come to notice is how humans now speak little of God; now they are focused on their inventions and whatnot.

I moved through the crowded streets unnoticed; nobody cared much about my existence anyway.

Which was precisely what I wanted.

I had spent years living in anonymity, changing jobs when I felt I was starting to grow attached to a place; that fear of exposure always gripped me so that I constantly reminded myself who I was.

And this obsidian heart bracelet will forever remain on my wrist to protect me.

The daycare I worked for was on the ground floor of an old building that had stood for decades; it seemed worn out. Even though the sign was all worn out, the owner had refused to do anything about it and often complained about how tight money was, but he would do it soon. From what I've heard, he's been saying that for ten years, and still nothing.

The sun set as the clock ticked six. Mrs. Marie had picked up her bag, ready to leave. Today is Thursday, and she goes to church for her choir practice, leaving me with Bella.

Today was my last day here, so I'm not sure I'm going to stay longer.

"Shit!" Bella covered her mouth. "I said a curse word."

I chuckled. "Must have been serious."

"It is! Tonight I have a date, and it's by seven, and, uhm..." She shoved strands of her hair to the back of her ear, acting all shy. "It's with one of the Barrymores."

"So he is rich."

"Yes, and I can't ruin my chances for a good life by staying here... Lara, help me out here." She knelt down, pleading with me.

"I don't think that's possible; I already lost the job, and you know I can't take care of all of them myself," I said carefully.

"Lara, please! When I get married, I will give you half of my inheritance; just do this one favor for me. You can also place the key in the old mailbox outside; no one will know. Bella pleaded, her eyes closed, waiting for me to speak.

I was still hesitant; I simply couldn't just do that, at least not anymore. I've covered for her several times before now... But he is rich, and I know how that can be crucial in this society.

"Fine," I said in a defeated tone. "You can get going..."

"Thank you, thank you..." She kissed my forehead, and in a flash she was gone with her bag, leaving me behind.

I stayed up to seven, and one after the other, parents came to carry their kids, except for one, Danielle. She is only three, unusually quiet, and sometimes hard to tell was even there, blue-eyed with curly chestnut hair.

I smiled at her when it clocked nine, eyes weary of having to wait even more. There was a curfew placed by the authorities at ten, with a hefty sum as a fine, and still there was no sign of her guardian coming to pick her up.

At 9:25 PM, I started to close up, thinking of going over to her parents' house to drop her off myself.

When I opened the ledger, there was no address written, and the phone number was non-existent.

I was confused. I've known Danielle for about two weeks, since she was brought here, but I never knew her well. I mean, that was Bella's job.

I took a deep breath before getting up from my chair and heading outside, only for a black motorcar to pull up in front of the building.

It was rare to find anyone driving one, especially since it was only released yesterday, and yet whoever was in there had one.

The car opened. A pale man stepped out from the driver's seat as he approached me.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black tailored suit only men of society wore, and it seemed to have been made by a hundred hands.

I sized him from toe to head, having no clue what someone like him was doing in a place like this.

Especially having a face like his, carved perfectly-sharp jaw, unreadable brown eyes, and dark brown hair. He held a black umbrella despite the sky being clear for weeks as though he were expecting rain.

I had stared so long that I didn't realize how close he was, almost frightening me.

"What do you want?" My tone was sharp and rigid.

"My ward, I was told the name is..." He squinted his eyes, trying to read the signboard, but couldn't make out any word from the weathered old sign.

"Name?" I remained polite even though I was about to scream at his face for taking so long.

"You can't have my name," he stated, firm and straight to the point.

I gave a taut smile. "If I can't have your name, sir, how then will I know if your child is here or not?" I said with gritted teeth.

"This is a daycare?"

"Yes"

"Then my child is here," he replied sharply. "My time is being wasted because of you..." He tried to shove his head inside, but I blocked him.

"What are you doing?" I snapped.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he shot back.

"Trying to trespass... Also, there is no hundred percent chance your child is here; there are other daycares around," I said flatly.

"Checked all, and they were close; this was the only one open. My child is here," he said with certainty.

He won't disclose his name, refers to his child as "his child" without using a name, and clearly doesn't even know what daycare his child is in.

How convenient for me to trust him.

"Do you have a tag?" I asked, still skeptical of him.

"Tag? What tag?" He searched his pockets and wallet looking for the tag. "Lost it,"

I smiled, amused by his weak tricks.

"What's funny? Do I make you laugh?" He questioned, his accent shifting to the northern accent that has long been abandoned.

I folded my arms, feeling much more relaxed. "No, you are not funny, but unfunny people tend to make the most jokes, which is why I laughed."

He exhaled his words, "I see I have kept you entertained; now please fetch me my child, or I'll do it myself."

He kept his words short, stern, and cutting. I think he does this to intimidate; this could be his persona.

I managed a dry laugh to ease the tension between us. "Give me a moment, just one second."

I went inside to a sleeping Danielle, and it made me think there was no resemblance of her that matched the man outside.

Danielle might not speak much, but she seemed kind, well raised, and not like the arrogant, dismissive man standing outside.

My hand hovered over the telephone, about to call the vigilante, until I stopped myself and went outside to meet with him.

He raised his brow at my empty hands.

"I still have a few questions to ask," I said calmly.

He checked his watch. "It's late; you should be worried. Women aren't allowed to walk around late at night."

Then maybe come earlier than 9:30?

I didn't answer him; I wouldn't dare say what was on my mind. If I did... Well, thank God I didn't.

"I suppose this is your first time here?"

"Yes," he said truthfully.

I nodded my head, pleased he came clean. "We don't have tags... But it would help if you gave me the name of the person who picked up your child before now," I tried to be clear.

He was puzzled in that brief moment, taken aback in fact as he tried to recall.

"Ava... Naya... Nina?" he dragged, sounding unsure.

I asked, "And your child's name? Need to confirm if it matches."

My heart pounded; if I were right about him, he would get Danielle's name correctly. If he doesn't, then I accept that I was wrong to have judged him.

"Danielle," he answered sharply.

I smiled quickly, my heart almost popping out of my chest. "Give me a moment."

I turned to the counter, locking the doors immediately, and then I grabbed the telephone and dialed the vigilante line.

He doesn't know where the daycare is, doesn't know the name of the nanny, doesn't look anything like her father, and refuses to give his name. What's worse is he drives the newest invention but thought it was best to put his child in a daycare where death knows no name.

Even after all this, the one thing he got corrected was Danielle's name.

"This is the vigilante line; please kindly state your iss-" Ethan's voice came.

I didn't let him finish as I cut in, "I need your help; there is a child trafficker outside the daycare..."

I looked at Danielle lying peacefully on one of the beds and then slowly dropped the telephone. My eyes shifted to the window, and there he was, standing there, watching me make that call.

Then he smiled.

Fyre

I wonder what would've happened if Ethan didn't hurry up with his men. I mean, they are usually lazy when it comes to urgent matters like this, which is why being someone he fancies sort of has its perks.

I even trusted Daniella with him before I left. Whatever happened to that man, I hope he gets locked up for good.

The towering gates of the grand Victorian mansion stretched from one end of the hill to the other. The guards guarding the gates allowed me through immediately after I gave my name.

I knew I would be working for family but wasn't expecting this type of family; it's rare they hire anybody without due process. By that I meant connections.

Mrs. Hawthorne, who had written to me days back, stood at the entrance waiting for me with a smile on her face.

"You came quite early," she said, holding her hands out to me. "Are you scared of dogs? Forget it, I will need you to come in quietly, not a single sound."

I followed, not giving me the chance to even greet her.

When we entered, I was stunned by the opulence of the entire house, from the chandelier to the marble floors, and I've barely seen anything yet, but I was very much impressed.

"So when do you wish to start, dear?" Mrs. Hawthorne brought to me a glass of orange juice and biscuits.

"Thank you so much," I said, sitting down on the chair she pulled for me.

"I see you are quite young, but you have so much experience," she said, impressed but still surprised by it.

I already had my story planted in my head, so I was ready for it.

"I started working with my hands when I was twelve," I replied.

"My dear... Yet your palms feel so soft, like you haven't labored a day in your life. I'm so happy to have you here; we were really in need of a replacement since the other lady who filled the position had chosen to leave after a month..." Mrs. Hawthorne sighed.

"She didn't like it? Did something happen?" I asked, though I wanted to know more.

She breathed out, "It's been like that... Nothing new... I hope you will be different, dear; I do feel bad for the little one; she's the one having to deal with it all the time."

OH... So I'm guessing the family has a child. Bella wasn't wrong to have thought of that after all.

"As you can see, I already like you; now it all depends on the master of the house. I'll go call him." As she was about to turn, she stopped at the foot of the stairs, seeing who was coming. "He's already here; just be yourself."

"Mrs. Hawthorne, she's here?" the voice came down, calm, deep, and authoritative.

When my eyes fell on him, there was something that certainly felt amiss; I wasn't surprised, nor was I shocked.

I was just there.

It was him.

The tall, mysterious man from the last three nights, the one who I got arrested-I never actually got his name, not like I was bothered by it; I already knew I wasn't going to see him again, except now.

"I see you don't stay with your employer for more than three years; why is that? The day care was a surprise." He said, coming down the stairs with my file in his hand, having a smirk stuck on his lips.

"You also don't keep your employees for more than a month; why is that?" I asked back, already knowing I wasn't getting the job, so why don't I tire him out with my miserable life?

"I see someone has been doing a lot of talking..." His eyes shifted to Mrs. Hawthorne, who pretended like she was dusting the banister.

"I'll leave you two then, and you, be nice to her," Mrs. Hawthorne warned.

He gave a warm smile, which sort of hinted that he will be nothing short of nice.

"Do you have something to say?" He closed my file, resting his arm on the rail, feeling like some kind of god right now; it made my stomach churn.

"You aren't going to hire me," I said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Don't say that... I was expecting you to give me a speech about how you lost your parent or your uncle or someone is suffering, or something to convince me to give you the job, but you just gave up," he mused.

"Because I know how entitled people like you get, all high and mighty, always wanting to-"

"Is your real name Lara?" He interrupted me just to ask, "I sort of feel like it is something else." He left his comfort zone to get closer.

I was puzzled how that was in any relation to the job.

"How is that your concern?"

He lifted his shoulders. "I don't know, I normally do not even get this invested in anyone Mrs. Hawthorne tries to hire... but you... You should be pleased." He leaned forward, nowhere close to me but poised in an intimidating manner. "Lara..." he just called and then paused; he kept staring into my soul as though he was trying to read me. "Your face sort of gives off Margaret, maybe Agatha... or Eleanor, not Lara."

"Well, Lara is my name..."

"I know, but if I were to have named you, I would have given you that," he said simply.

"Why? You hate the names, don't you?"

He was taken aback by how quick I was able to read him.

He gave a slow smile, as though he was sort of pleased by my sharp wit.

"How did you know?"

"It's easy; men like yourself think the same; it's not that hard to decipher." I took a deep breath. "I should go home; I'm clearly not getting the job, and I don't want it either."

"What if I want to give it to you?"

"I would still reject it; nobody in their right mind will become a maid in a house where the house owner requires you to do all of the chores all by yourself because they can't stand humans."

"Mrs. Hawthorne already briefed you?"

"She didn't exactly have to; I've got eyes. I can see there is no one here except Mrs. Hawthorne," I replied sharply.

"True, but where did you get the idea that I can't stand humans? You are human, and I can stand you... That's why I want you to stay... I'll pay a hefty price if you don't mind," he added.

This man... He really is not going to ask about the whole child trafficking thing or how he managed to get out.

Oh, how silly of me to think someone who lives here won't be able to bribe his way out.

This could be a trap.

He draped himself over the rail, surprisingly intrigued for some reason, wearing a grin on his lips. Amused for some reason.

"What was your first opinion of me?" He asked.

I was taken aback as to what he meant by that; seriously, he didn't want to hear what I had to say.

"I'll take a quick guess: tall, brooding... mysterious, arrogant... arrogant. I kind of get that a lot; people often misunderstand my confidence for arrogance. What other thing... Mhm... handsome too." He finally walked down the stairs. "I should kick you out of my house, agreed?"

"I was already leaving."

"No stay, I'm just saying there is a possibility of that happening, but I'll let it slide since you already apologized."

"I never apologized."

"But you will," He said with absolute certainty; he was indeed arrogant. He glanced at his watch. "Still have time... Come, Margaret, I mean Lara..." He said with a chuckle, "I think I can spare a little of my time to give you a tour of my abode and show you to your room. I never do this for anybody; you should be delighted."

"Why?" I hissed, rolling my eyes.

He mistook my tone for a question, thinking I'd ask that, wanting to know why he never did a tour for others. Meanwhile, it was just rhetoric because why on earth should I be delighted to have him give me a tour?

"Why? Why because it has a tail and two branches?" he replied. He turned to catch me utterly confused. "Danielle would've laughed, even Mrs. Hawthorne. I see you are very hard to please, Lara."

"I didn't understand," I admitted, my forehead furrowed, because I genuinely wanted to.

He paused mid-step, seeing my expression, to try and explain what he meant.

"You ask why? What letter sounds like why?" He asked, giving me a soft lecture on his supposed joke.

"Y?"

"Correct. So Y has a tail and two branches, see... " He demonstrated with his hand before walking away, "Even now you still couldn't laugh."

I mean, I get why Danielle or Mrs. Hawthorne would've laughed; Danielle probably won't understand, and Mrs. Hawthorne fears for her wages.

I almost wanted to force a laugh, but then he said, "Don't try to fake it, Lara; it won't feel genuine."

We stopped at a room, which was closed and was on the second floor of the house.

"So this is where you will be staying." He opened the door to reveal a large bedroom. The decor was beautiful; you would think it belonged to a guest. I mean, I've lived in better places because I can afford it, but this was a better upgrade, I guess.

"It's nice," I said.

He chuckled, finding that amusing, I suppose.

"Very Lara... I would've expected a little bit of enthusiasm, but I guess it being nice is alright." He added, "Oh, that is Danielle's room. The closer you are to her, the faster you attend to her needs. When it's time, you pick her up from school, and also... I think you get it-"

"I should-" I stopped myself from speaking as it seemed he had more to say.

"I just wanted to let you know the room at the extreme end is mine, the master bedroom..." He continued.

"Okay,"

"Great. I think I'll hand over to Mrs. Hawthorne now." He took a step back from my room in case I wanted to go in.

"I haven't said that I wanted to work here; the work is still a lot."

"It's not. You only get to manage this part of the house; the other side is off-limits, and I wouldn't want you going there." His words were firm as he emphasized "off-limits."

"Okay, Mr. Montague,"

He still had the smile from earlier stamped on his face; it was hard to tell exactly what it was for. Was he amused, or was it genuine?

Why was he even smiling so much? And has he moved on from that day?

Even when he walked away, I couldn't stop trying to read him. He was like an open book.

I rubbed my obsidian bracelet to ease the worry creeping inside of me, hoping I was making a good choice by choosing to stay here, something I've never done.