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Another chapter with some nostalgia... 

Hello, everyone! Thanks for the people who read "The Emerald Chronicles" and are sticking with the characters, and thanks for the people who have just come aboard! We're a pretty nice bunch, here. 

For the newbies, if you're confused about characters or backstory, let me know! I'm writing it from the perspective of someone who has lived and breathed these characters for three years, so it's basically in my DNA. And, ya know, if you ever want to start Blue Moon... (which sucks, honestly, and then the series gets much better eventually). ;)  

IF I SEE ONE MORE PICTURE OF TOM OR SEB FROM PHILLY IM GOING TO CRY. 

Okay, that is all. 

I'm going out of town (again) on Sunday, but I'll try to update tomorrow. I'll be back Thursday, so there will be a week-ish break. 

Please VOTE and COMMENT!

xoxo Sierra xoxo

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Chapter Four:

Victoire wakes up very early the next morning with a searing pain in her jaw. Unable to resist a muffled whimper, she sits up, her fingers on her mouth. Most of the blood has rubbed off- either from kissing or from sleeping- but as she moves her fingertips over her teeth, Victoire feels the sharp points of her fangs that haven't retracted.

Her entire body sore, Victoire sits up. Riyell is beside her, his bare chest rising up and down as he sleeps peacefully. Hardly making a sound, Victoire pulls her clothes on, keeping back more sounds of pain. She grabs her shoulder bag from where she threw it the night before and walks out of the loft, footsteps silent. Either Riyell doesn't hear her, or he lets her leave without indication.

Her conscience spinning, she leans against the hall wall and bangs her head against the wood panel several times. Victoire can't remember the last time she cried, but she is steadily on her way. Her jaw is in agony, she just slept with a stranger, her entire past is a lie, and she has fangs hanging over her lips.

The vibrating of her phone distracts her from the shock and pain. Pursing her lips, she grabs the device. DEAN flashes across the screen, accompanied by a picture of the two of them last summer at the beach.

She clicks her phone on silent- noticing five missed calls from Kyle, two from Emmaline, one from Giovanna, one from an unknown number, and three from Dean- and walks down the two flights of stairs in Riyell's building.

She has no idea where she is, and uses the GPS on her phone to figure out that she's about a twenty minute walk from home. Victoire is good with direction, and after determining that the Santa Monica Pier is to her right, she puts the ocean on her left and begins walking along the Pacific Coast Highway.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the brown mountains to the east, and even though it's a Saturday morning, there's still a steady stream of traffic, most of it heading in the opposite direction, toward downtown Los Angeles. It is drizzling softly, which is unusual enough for Southern California. Victoire keeps her mouth shut- having no desire to expose her fangs to any passersby- and her head down, trying to block the rain and think up some sort of excuse for where she'd been.

This isn't the first time Victoire has left the Calen's house- or the Brigham's, on the rare occasion that Scarlett and Lee are there- but it is the first time she has stayed overnight without telling anyone where. She imagines the entire household is in a scramble of worry, and also figures she should probably call someone back. But she's too mentally drained.

Finally, she walks up the pebbled drive to the house, then lets herself in through the back.

"Lord Almighty, Victoire!"

Victoire wishes she could have snuck upstairs, but clearly despite the hour, Kyle is wide awake. He's sitting at the kitchen counter, one hand holding his cell phone to his ear. He looks exhausted and worried beyond anything else.

"Hi," she mutters, throwing her bag on the floor and sidestepping Sarge when he tries to jump on her. She avoids looking at him.

Kyle says something vague into the phone then hangs up. "What happened?"

"I left. And then came back."

He runs his hands through his thick, black hair. "We really need to talk about this. Why didn't you call? We were all terrified out of our minds. If Giovanna is right, if there really is somebody out there wanting your blood-"

"How about you ask Anthony? He's the one who started all this shit," Victoire says, finally raising her head.

Kyle stares at her. "Why is there blood on your mouth?"

Clearly, not all the blood was wiped off like Victoire thought.

"Guess I had a snack," says Victoire, stalking through the kitchen.

"Victoire!" Kyle follows her, grabbing her elbow. Instinctively, she flings him back- not knowing her own strength, Kyle slams into the wall. While Victoire freezes, her entire body shaking, Kyle steadies himself and looks her up and down.

Victoire catches sight of herself in the hall mirror: drenched hair, black makeup running, the dragon tattoo on her back peeking out from her tank top, fangs out, bloodied lips the same vivid red as her eyes. She has half a mind to knock herself unconscious to spare the Calen household some sort of Victoire-ville Horror.

"You remind me so much of someone," says Kyle with a sigh. "With that temper and willfulness and that look of a cat perpetually being dragged through the rain."

Victoire doesn't ask who. She doesn't really care.

"Okay," says Kyle, taking a deep breath. "We obviously really do need to talk. We could-"

"Why don't you just let that damn sorcerer swipe my mind again?" asks Victoire dully.

"I could," says Kyle. "But you obviously came in contact with blood, and once that happens, your fangs aren't going away anytime soon. So you wouldn't remember the parts about being a Velah, but the fangs would be a fairly good giveaway that something's not right."

Victoire crosses her arms and glares at him. "So now what?"

"Now you go upstairs and take a shower. Try to clear your head. Whatever happened last night, I really hope there are no dead bodies involved."

"Nope."

"That's a relief. Come to the kitchen for some breakfast when you're ready, little bit."

The old nickname does nothing to soften Victoire's heart. Still glaring, she pushes past Kyle and trudges up the stairs.

She is just about to sneak into her and Giovanna's room when a door down the hall opens and Dean and Ayaan walk out. They're wearing nothing but swimming trunks, surfboards in hand. When he catches sight of her, Dean drops his board and starts to walk toward her, but shaking her head, Victoire lets herself into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Giovanna, for all the calamities of yesterday, is sleeping peacefully in her low bed across from the window. Her straight hair is spread over her shoulders, mouth partially open as she breathes. In her hands she clutches the old Raggedy Ann doll that once belonged to her mother and she has slept with every night. The doll's threaded hair is as red as Giovanna's.

Ajia's purse and t-shirt are still on the ground, and Victoire smells her perfume. She figures she's sleeping in the guest room. For some reason, Ajia and Ayaan spent the night, whether from Kyle's worry about the purple-eyed woman in the window or from pure chaos.

Victoire collapses on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. A rapping sound from the window distracts her from her stormy thoughts and glancing to the side, she catches sight of a white shape at the glass. Sitting up, she realizes it's a large snowy owl with red eyes.

Huffing, Victoire walks to the window. "So what?" she mutters, not wanting to wake Giovanna. "You're Wai... whatever the hell your name is. You've been watching me since I was a baby and you're introducing yourself now?"

Yes.

Victoire jumps. The voice is silent, but clear as day in her head. "What the hell?"

You are related by blood to Videl. I can communicate with you just as I could communicate with him. I am Wairua. I have protected the firstborn of your family for generations.

"I remember you with different colored eyes."
When I protected Videl and communicated with his mind, I had amber eyes. Now with you, they are crimson.

Victoire clutches her head. "For the love of God, I'm going to find the person who spiked my drink and kill her. I'm obviously high right now."

You're not high.

"How do owls even know what getting high means?" she demands.

Wairua fluffs his feathers. I've lived awhile.

"Drugs don't even work on me," says Victoire. "I tried once, and everyone was being stupid and high, but I was just sitting there wondering what the hell they were doing."

Drugs don't work on Velah. Your system is stronger and can resist. It is much the same with alcohol, though I am sure there are some Niriketian strands that could intoxicate you.

"Well, I need some of that," says Victoire. "Hit me up with the Niriketian booze. I've never been able to get drunk, and I'm in serious need right now."

You're in serious need of getting cleaned up. And this is for you. Wairua holds out a claw- clenched between his talons is a neatly folded piece of paper.

"Who's it from?" asks Victoire.

Riyell, the Velah knight you met and consequently spent the night with.

"If this is going to work," says Victoire. "There will be no discussing my personal habits." She pushes the window up and takes the piece of paper. "It's official. I'm crazy. I've just accepted mail from Hedwig."

Wairua's red eyes narrow. My name is not Hedwig. I do not understand why people keep calling me that.

"You've lived awhile," says Victoire. "You should experience the Harry Potter books at some point in your too-long avian lifetime."

I'll consider it.

"Do you know who this purple-eyed woman is?" asks Victoire. "The one Giovanna keeps seeing? She called herself the Woman of Antiquam."

I've been keeping my attention on you, not following witches. But I have my suspicions. I can only hope that my suspicions are wrong.

"All right." Victoire sets Riyell's letter beside her on the mattress. "What's your suspicion? And what does Antiquam mean in Niriketian or Velah-ian or whatever the hell that language is?"

The Velah and Niriketians share the same ancient language. But 'antiquam' is Latin. For revenge.

"The Woman of Revenge," Victoire says. "Great. So who is she and why does she want revenge on me?"

Again, I can only guess. But Caomh, the sorcerer who killed your parents and Videl, had a lover named Baya. She was from a mountain race of Niriketians living far away from anyone else. That race of people is known for their prominent violet eyes. And because of your connection to Caomh, Baya may consider you a grudge.

"Is Baya a witch?"

Unlike Neidra and Caomh, not to mention Rani and his daughter, Baya's powers do not come from blood- they are not inherited. But some basic spells and potions can be taught. I believe that after Caomh and Neidra's deaths, Baya isolated herself and learned dark magic. Magic that should not be practiced, particularly by one as inexperienced as her.

"So she's a witch."

I do not know why she wants your blood. But whatever the purpose, it cannot be good.

"Duh."

At that moment, Kyle appears in the doorway. He doesn't seem to be the least bit surprised to see a giant white owl on the window frame. All he does is nod to the bird. "Wairua. It's been a while."

Wairua hoots lowly, then begins to preen his feathers.

Talking quietly so as not to wake Giovanna, Kyle says, "Victoire, there is someone downstairs to see you."

"Who?" I ask. "Do I have a secret brother who's a count? Or can I suddenly fly like Jack and his legion of Volare?"

Kyle's mouth quirks up in a smirk. "I'm also making blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes."

"Now you're just bribing."

"And I bought kiwi."

"Bribing should be illegal." Despite her irritation, Victoire has calmed down in the last ten minutes, at least enough to stop cursing and shouting at Kyle.

"Come on down when you're ready," says Kyle. He glances at a still-sleeping Giovanna. "The boys are at the beach, but get Gia up. Ajia's already awake and downstairs entertaining our guest."

"Define entertaining."

"When I was climbing upstairs, she was using my new pepper shaker as a microphone and singing some sort of remix of 'Crazy in Love' and 'Lemonade'."

"Fantastic."

"Sarge is entertained at least," says Kyle. "I'll give you ten minutes or the party is moving up here."

He leaves, and Victoire slumps against the bed. Kicking off her black pumps, she unfolds the piece of paper at her side.

Victoire,

I am sorry I did not get to know you better. I am continuing to hunt the Woman of Antiquam you described. I'll let you know if I have any news. Be careful- I do not know if there is something even more dangerous stalking you.

My phone number is at the bottom. Velah do know how to use technology, in case you were curious.

I know that being a Velah is new to you. Please let me know if you wish to know more.

-Riyell

(also... you are delicious ;) )

For some reason, Riyell's postscript brings a smile to Victoire's face. She tries to bite her lip to keep back the grin, but all this results in is a cut from her fangs and a jumbled mix of curse words.

I can send a reply, if you wish. Wairua is still sitting at the window.

"That's okay," says Victoire. "I got his phone number."

The owl flaps his wings. I will return. He soars out the window, vanishing up over the roof.

Walking around the littered cosmetics on the shag rug, Victoire enters Riyell's number into her phone. Then, she shakes Giovanna gently. "Gia! Wake up!"

Mumbling under her breath, Giovanna stirs. Victoire shakes her harder. "Giovanna! It's Victoire, and I'm back and alive."

Giovanna's green eyes open tiredly, blink rapidly, then focus on Victoire. Sitting up rapidly, she says earnestly, "Victoire, where were you? We were so worried!"

Sitting beside her, Victoire relates the events of the evening. When she gets to the part about the attack, Giovanna, pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "You didn't have to do that," she says, her cheeks flushed. "You didn't have to defend me."

"Of course I do," says Victoire. "That's what sisters do. We defend each other."

Giovanna smiles shakily, rubbing her arm.

Victoire goes through the part about Riyell quickly. Giovanna blushes again when she hears about the encounter in the loft, but focuses more on the woman on Santa Monica Pier. "That must be the woman I saw. I wonder what 'follow the songs' means."

"Not a damn clue," says Victoire.

"Does your mouth still hurt?" asks Giovanna kindly.

"A little." The more accurate description would be Yes, extraordinarily, but Victoire has always been one to minimize her own pain. "Are you doing better?"

Giovanna looks at her hands. "Not entirely."

"What a day for both of us," says Victoire. "Yesterday, you came out as a lesbian, and I came out as a Velah. Between the two of us, I'd much rather be dumped with the lesbianism."

"What is it like being... well, liking both?" inquires Giovanna. She has started to braid her straight hair in a neat plait down her back. Victoire wishes her hair were that straight after a night's sleep- it is usually razor-straight from the straightener she applies every day, but naturally, it's quite curly. Now, it's practically a rat's nest.

Victoire combs through her hair with her fingers, trying to make some sort of sense to it. "It's quite nice. Amazing real estate. You just walk down the street and you're like 'Oh, that dude is hot,' and then 'Wait, that girl is hotter'. It's like shopping in a mall instead of a Costco."

"Oh."

At that moment, Ajia appears from around the corner. Without further ado, she leaps on the bed, throwing her arms around both girls. "How are my two favorite white girls?"

"Increasingly white," says Victoire. "Thankfully, it's summer, so I might be able to hope for a tan."

"Look at us, a diverse bunch," says Ajia proudly. "Black, Italian, and Velah. Not to mention three different choices of sexual orientation. It's like a bag of multicolored M&Ms."

"Fancy that," says Victoire dryly, while Giovanna says nothing. "Who's downstairs?"

Ajia pretends to zip her lips. "Scouts honor. You're supposed to find out. But he's attractive. His voice is like honey."

"What does a honeyed voice exactly sound like?" asks Victoire.

"Magic," says Ajia promptly. "So how about we all get washed up, cleaned up, and then downstairs. We'll put all this Velah business behind us, and then have a kick ass summer? Right, ladies?"

"The Velah business better get over with quickly," says Victoire, standing up and throwing her hair in a long, partially braided ponytail.

"I have a feeling it won't," says Giovanna in her quiet voice.

"Never be a cheerleader," says Victoire. "Stick to your dancing."

It takes several minutes to convince Giovanna to come downstairs- the Italian girl wants nothing more than to hole herself up in her room and not speak to anyone for a good long while. Eventually, while Victoire pulls on a clean shirt- littered with green and black images of the Dark Mark from the Harry Potter series- Ajia does the convincing. Victoire is fairly sure Ajia could convince the Pope to go water sliding.

The girls walk downstairs, Ajia pulling Giovanna by the arm. Sarge greets them in the foyer, and immediately begins licking every finger he can get to before running upstairs, most likely to the room Elizabeth and Carolina share.

In the kitchen, Kyle is holding Arabella, bouncing her in one arm while he flips pancakes. "There you girls are. Chocolate chip, blueberry, or Victoire's Mix, which means a crap load of both?"

But Victoire's focus is not on Kyle or the delicious aroma of pancakes. It is on the tall man leaning against the counter, dressed in black leather with several antiquated weapons strapped to his waist and chest. His hair is even blacker than his armor, his face is angular and chiseled, and his glowing eyes are very, very green.

"Hello, Victoire," he says, his voice low, accented, and a fascinating mixture between rough and smooth. "It's been a long time since I've seen you. My name is Rani Marahn." 

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Yes, Rani is the adaptation version of Loki. :D 

What do you think? Please VOTE and COMMENT!

LOVE YOU ALL! I'm always here for a virtual hug!

xoxo Sierra xoxo

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