The Family

Chapter 1-2

Sarah nods a few times, tilting her head, and raises her eyebrows. “You mean namuhs?” She smirks, looking the woman up and down, and sits across from her.

Peter sits in the chair between Sarah and the man, lacing his fingers on the table, and stares at the man.

The man looks back at him, face still shrouded, and a silence hovers over them until he jumps with a smile. “Oh yes, your explanation.” He leans over with both elbows on the table and slides his hood from his head, letting his ponytail fall over his shoulder.

Sarah and Peter both jump. Disregarding propriety for a moment, they stare at milky white and grey eyes without pupils.

Sarah comes to her senses, ceasing her blatant stare, and takes in a sharp breath, giving her best discrete side-glare at the woman. Are hers the same unnerving white?

The woman continues to look out the window, giving way to no such inklings.

The man sighs, looking at Peter. “Peter, my name is Rayden, and this is Rayburn. We’re twins, and… well, your aunt and uncle.” He swallows, hesitating a bit, and then blurts out the words. “Lamia’s older brother and sister.” He clears his throat, fidgeting in his seat, and puts up his hands.

Peter and Sarah jump up from their seats, stumbling backwards over their chairs. The floor creaks with each movement they make.

Peter’s chair falls backward with a loud fwack. He ignites his hand. They extinguish in an instant.

Rayburn points her bow at Sarah, arrow tip steadying on Sarah’s forehead.

Sarah puts her hands at the level of her head. Despite the threat of death before her, she can’t help but admire the crafted wood of art ready to kill her. Such a beautiful piece of machinery.

Rayburn’s hair moves from her face. Eyes, visible now, are the same milky white and grey.

Distracted now from the woodwork before her, Sarah takes in a breath and stares.

Peter ignites his hands again. And again, they’re extinguished. He does it once more with the same result.

Damn it!

Sarah volleys her gaze between Rayden and Rayburn. She dares not move.

Peter points a finger at Rayden. “Stop doing that! It’s annoying…” His next words come off on a whimper. “And really unfair.” He crosses his arms, cutting his eyes at Rayburn.

Rayden puts his hand out in front of him. “Peter, we don’t want to hurt you. If we did, we would have, and you’d never have had a chance to stop us.” He stands tall, folding his arms across his puffed chest, and smirks.

Rayburn wiggles her fingers around the grip of her bow and murmurs. “I want to.” She holds her aim on Sarah.

Sarah scrunches her face, shaking her head a bit, and glares at Rayburn.

Peter jerks his head to her, furrowing his eyebrows.

Rayburn squints but doesn’t close either eye. Three arrows hang from her loosing hand, fletching feathers sinking into her skin near her ear. The first three fingers of her loosing hand flex around the string, knuckle resting against her cheek. The fletching feathers of the nocked arrow brush her jaw line. She adjusts her palm on the grip. Her leather gloves creak and almost squeak against the smooth wood.

Sarah sighs, hands still in the air. “You may want to work on your slant. It’s a bit askew.” She eyes Rayburn up and down, then turns her attention to Peter staring at Rayden.

Rayden cuts his eyes at Rayburn for a split second before returning to Peter. “Rayburn put that down. You know she can’t defend herself.” He rolls his eyes, putting his hand out to Sarah.

Getting no answer, Rayden puts out a hand to Rayburn, flopping it about, and keeps his eyes on Peter.

With a soft growl and hesitation, Rayburn lowers her bow, putting slack in her string.

Rayden keeps his hand up but puts it towards Peter, flitting a grin. “Peter, we’re not like Lamia. We know what happened and that you two killed her.” He pauses, tone softening a bit. “We felt her die, just like you did.” He raises his eyebrows, looking Peter in the eyes.

Peter’s eyes soften. He relaxes his fists, rolling his shoulders, and raises his eyebrows. Sighing, he looks at both Rayden and Rayburn, then the floor. Scratching his head, he tousles his hair and rubs his face all with the same hand.

Sarah takes her time lowering her hands. She glances around the room as the images from the past weeks fill her mind.

Peter’s agonizing screams.

The ring of fire.

Lamia turning into that hauntingly beautiful tree.

Peter cuts his eyes up at Rayden. “I thought only I felt that.” He swallows hard.

Rayden shakes his head. “No, all direct blood relatives can feel it. That’s how we found you. She would’ve too if we hadn’t been so close to you.” He puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder, bringing him to his fallen chair.

Peter picks it up, sitting with Sarah beside him, and looks at his hands. “How close to us were you two?” He cuts his eyes at Rayden, glancing at Rayburn, and looks back at his hands.

Rayden looks to the ceiling, shrugging his lips. “Oh, what was that village’s name? Rum, Remy?” He taps his chin, pursing his lips, and squints at the ceiling.

Rayburn sighs. “Helmsburge, Rayden. We were in Helmsburge.” She rolls her eyes, returning to the window, and mumbles. “I swear, how do you even know your own name?” She sighs again, shaking her head.

Rayden snaps his fingers. “Of course! I was so far off the mark!” He chuckles, knocking on the table a few times, and shifts in his seat.

Peter cuts his eyes at Sarah. “Helmsburge is a five-days’ ride from our farm. Eight on foot. How is that close?” He eyes the table, hesitating to look Rayden in the eyes.

Rayden puts his forearm on the table, leaning forward. “Peter, how far away from your home would you say we are now?” He raises his eyebrows, grinning.

Peter shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He chews the corner of his lips.

Rayden shrugs, holding his grin, and nods. “Give it your wildest guess.” He shifts in his seat again, getting closer.

Peter lets out a breathy laugh, shifting in his seat, and glances at Sarah. “Three days?” He shrugs his lips.

Rayden chuckles. “Try close to three months. We’re on the edge of Acebridge, which lies on the edge of Tocsland, and your farm is at the southernmost tip of the country.” He leans back, tapping a fingernail on the table.

Peter’s eyes widen, and he looks at Sarah.

They sit a mutual and silent stare for several seconds.

Sarah takes in a sharp breath, turning to Rayden, but keeps Rayburn in her peripherals. “‘She’? You keep mentioning a ‘she’.” Leaning forward, she rests her fingertips on the edge of the table.

Rayden turns to her and nods. He takes out a flat, dried-up leaf, and sprinkles some brown flakes on it. Rolling it into a thick packed roll, he licks the edge before pressing it down and smooths it out. Patting and searching his coat and pants pockets, he pulls nothing out.

Sarah and Peter watch him scramble about his chair.

Pausing for a short moment, Rayden points at Peter. “You mind?” Wagging a finger, his eyes fall to Peter’s hand.

Peter rolls his eyes, snapping, and ignites an index finger.

Rayden puts the roll in his mouth, leaning over. Sticking the roll in the fire, he puffs a few times, and takes it out of his mouth between his fingers. Leaning back, he blows out smoke, making circles in the air.

Sarah and Peter watch the smoke rings move through the air. When he’s done making circles, he lets out a cloud of smoke towards them.

Sarah breathes it in, scrunching her nose. It has a pleasant scent at first, but the more she breathes, the more its effects turn her off. She glances at Peter covering his mouth and nose. He must not like it either.

Once all the smoke disperses, Rayden sighs. “Yes, our other sister, Lilith. The baby of the family.” He cuts his eyes at them. “She’s worse than Lamia. At least Lamia had good sense. Well, until a few weeks ago anyway. But Lilith is still quite young. She’s a Liqwick and—” He brings his roll closer to his lips.

Peter wags a hand at Rayden, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, a what?” He leans back in his chair, scratching the back of his head, and slides his hand down the nape of his neck.

Rayden taps the roll, letting white ashes hit the floor. “That’s right. I forget you were raised homini.” He points to Peter, Rayburn, and himself. “We’re what our kind call Elephimas.” He holds up four fingers. “There are four kinds. You are, and your father was, an Inferno, hence the orange-red eyes and fire.” He glances at Rayburn, rolling his eyes, and looks back at Peter. “Rayburn and I are Airwicks, hence the white eyes and flight.” He shifts in his seat, puffing the roll, and blows out a light cloud of smoke. “Lamia was a Groundling with mostly brown eyes sprinkled with bits of grey and green. You’ve already seen the majority of her natural powers. Lilith is a Liqwick with blue eyes.” He leans back in his chair, taking a few more puffs, and blows smoke in Rayburn’s direction with a smirk, watching her roll her eyes. “Liqwicks control water, mostly, and all water inhabitants.” He taps the roll, ashes floating to the floor. “Those last two have one advantage we don’t.” He points between Peter and himself. “They can move more freely among hominis than we can. Generally, for Airwicks, if we want to blend in, which most don’t, but if we do, we act blind. It’s been found that hominis born without sight have a general milkiness to their eyes.” He chuckles, putting the roll between his lips, and leaves it there. “But what good does pretending to be a beggar do if you want to interact with the nobles, let alone anyone?” He pauses with a grin. “Am I right?” He leans forward and the roll bobs between his lips as he talks, more ashes falling to the floor. “Being what we are, we can control the different worldly forces as we know them along with certain aspects that correspond to them.” He pauses, inhaling from the roll, and releases smoke as he pull it from his lips. “Not only can we control those, but we can perform enchatos, or spells, from a book we’re given when we’re children.” He points at Peter, tilting his head to the right. “Which you should’ve gotten, but your mother took you away from our world before you were even a day old.” He leans back in his chair, holding the roll in his mouth, and inhales as he looks at Peter.

Peter stares at the floor, bouncing his leg.

Sarah watches Peter, putting her hand and elbow on the table, and picks at a large brown and black knot in the wood. She cuts her eyes at Rayburn sitting in her chair.

Rayburn turns, staring out the open window behind Sarah.

Sarah follows her gaze.

Two ravens sit on the sill, staring into the room. Their heads c**k and twitch, revealing glowing green eyes.

Rayburn stands.

Two arrows whiz past Sarah’s ears, piercing through both birds’ heads before Sarah can blink. She jumps, letting out a quick squeal, and puts a hand to her chest, turning around.

Rayden stands, glaring at her as she lowers her bow.

Rayburn looks back at him, sitting, and holds the top of her bow, wobbling it between her legs.

Rayden glares at her.

Sarah and Peter’s eyes widen as they stare and sit on the edges of their seats.