Cross My Heart Elizabeth Morgan (novels for beginners TXT) đ
- Author: Elizabeth Morgan
Book online «Cross My Heart Elizabeth Morgan (novels for beginners TXT) đ». Author Elizabeth Morgan
When had getting readyfor bed become such a chore?
Swinging my legs overthe side of the bed, I forced myself to stand up. Last nightâsjeans and boots were pooled on the cream carpet along with my blackbra. Shedding my knickers and top, I wandered into my bathroom,disposing the items in the bamboo wash basket. Grabbing myhairbrush, I set to work on the birdâs nest, pausing to untanglethe stray bobby pins caught in the auburn strands.
âYou need to sortyourself out, Elle,â I told my dishevelled reflection. I had beentelling my reflection that a lot lately.
Hair untangled andtied in a high ponytail, I flicked the power on to the shower andwalked inside, washing away the crust that was my make-up and thescent of cigarette smoke and lager, wondering yet again why theseordinary every day smells seemed a million times worse than Vampireblood.
Because youâre notused to the smell yet. Give it time.
Not used to the smellof everyday vices, and yet Vampire blood ... I could have beencoated in the rancid black gunge and it didnât bother me, and,well, when I stopped to think about it, that just seemed wrong. Sovery wrong ... Then again, not like my family were normal.
Washed and dressed inblack leggings, a vest top, trainers, and smelling of sweet cherryblossom instead of a brewery, I headed down the hall toward thekitchen where I could hear my mother humming away, the scent ofchicken broth wafting in the air.
âI didnât hear youcome in last night,â she commented as I stepped through thedoorway.
The skylights beamedfrom the tall, arched ceilings, the white light more effective nextto the roof window that revealed storm clouds and the ongoingslaughter of rain that heavily hit the double-glazed panes.
I made a b-linestraight to the coffee pot, retrieving a clean mug from the silverstand which stood beside the green machine situated at the cornerof the counter. âWell, I wouldnât be a very good hunter if Icouldnât sneak around undetected.â
âIâve never known ahunter to waste their time standing behind a bar serving menpints,â my father said from the kitchen table.
âThatâs because normalhunters never run out of prey,â I retorted, pouring the freshbrewed caffeine into my mug.
Not even anââAfternoon, dear daughter. I trust you slept well?â It wasstraight in with the snide remarks. He couldnât just drop this,for one day.
My father hadnât beentoo happy when I went and got myself a part-time job at the localpub. Vampire Slayers werenât supposed to do anything else withtheir time but train, hunt, and talk about training and hunting forVampires. I was one of many in a long-standing family businessâanisolating, crazy-dangerous business which he much preferred me tobe doing over the safety and monotony of standing in a building,serving customers, and earning money.
âYou havenât run outof preyââ
âFor the last timeââ Iput the pot back on its stand and turned to face him. ââIâm notgoing tâcontinue driving tâevery corner of Ireland just tâlook forVampires. That was a big waste of time, not tâmention yourmoney.â
Fuel costs alone hadbeen crazy. Throw in the fact that I needed to eat and occasionallysleep, it was costing a damn fortune to make sure the whole ofIreland was safe.
He lowered thenewspaper, his dark eyes fixed on me beneath the two caterpillarsthat were his crazy, thick eyebrows. Lines marked the corners ofhis thin mouth, which was set in its usual line of disapproval. Hisfading brown hair was damp and combed back, and at least two daysâworth of stubble claimed his tense jaw. âIt is your dutyââ
âDo you have tâdiscussthis again?â My mother stopped peeling the apple in her hand andglanced over her shoulder. She didnât move from her spot besidesthe cooker, but her gaze wandered between us. âDanielle is fullyaware of her responsibilities.â
âShe could have fooledme.â His tired gaze moved back to the paper in his hands.
âWhat do you want metâdo, Da?â I leant against the counter. âGo over to the UK and paysome Vampires tâcome over here so I can hunt and slay them? Itâsnot my fault that the undead find our lovely emerald island tooboring to stay in. We all know the only reason activity was so highfor all those years was because Alexis and Heather were withus.â
He dropped thenewspaper to the table. âThis has nothing to doââ
âIt haseverything to do with Heather.â I moved over to the tableand took a seat opposite him. âShe was the special one. The onethey all wanted. When she moved, they moved.â I took a swig of mycoffee, before resting my arms on the table. âYou should be happythereâs no more activity over here. Isnât that what we all want, aVampire-free zone?â
âWhat we want is tosee Marko dead.â He stabbed his finger against the wooden tabletopwith each word spoken.
âHe is dead,â Iremarked before taking another big swig of my coffee.
âDonât get smart withme, missy.â His index finger now pointed at me, his French accentrearing its head as his irritation doubled. âYou were trained tokill Vampires, like I was. Likeââ
âLike every damnmember of this family has been, and yet where are the rest of ourfamily?â I put my mug on the table. âIs it left up to just ustâlook for Marko? Are none of us allowed an ordinary life?â
âSo, thatâs it?â Heslumped back in his chair, hands gesturing to the âoutsideâ world.âYou plan to work in the local pub for the rest of your life,ignoring what happens outside your door?â
My father thought Iâdabandoned him and everything he had taught me, or at least thatâswhat it sounded like recently, since I had come home from myhunting trip a few months back and declared that the undead hadwell and truly gone from Ireland. He was under the impression thatI wanted to spend the rest of my life as a bar maid, and I had noclue what had given him that idea. All I wanted was to fill my timebefore I ended up going crazy, because what was I supposed to dowith my time if all the Vampires had vanished? Was I just supposedto sit and wait for them to
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