A Smoke Screen and The Red Herring

Wrath's visions dimmed as she slowly slid down to her knees with one hand gripping the railing with all her might. The spell had always given her a nauseating feeling; as if her stomach was being flipped inside out.

Though she had done it hundred over times with a duration of less than few hours each, the feeling was not something she could get used to or brace for. Being an exceptional young witch, she was gifted with remarkable endurance and ability to heal well from self-inflicted injuries. One could say that it was her specialty; other than element manipulation.

Unlike her energetic granddaughter, Lilith had accidentally blocked her third eye gate few years before Wrath's birth. Since then, she could only sense their presence and sometimes hear things. There were perks of closing one's eye, but it wouldn't be a recommended practice for people with many demonic enemies.

Eros knew full well that many of Wrath's past nemesis would try to attack her at her most fragile and vulnerable state. But what he couldn't understand was the reason behind her concealment spell.

Sadly, her grandmother's seemingly innocent and natural demise was one of the many examples of the spell's dangerous consequences. No one was brave enough to bring it up the Wrath as she would activate her spiritual barricade once any of her spirit advisor would touch on the sensitive topic; risking the blockage even more. Lilith's death was a tragic and unfortunately preventable incident that Wrath had tried to shut out from her brain.

Her usual veiling ritual would only work towards the visual aspect of the supernatural. This meant that it camouflaged their physical appearances, but she would still be able to feel and hear them to a certain extend. As the pain continued to creep up her throat, her hand gave up and released the railing; causing her to pummel to the ground.

"Gah!" she coughed into her hands.

Wrath looked down at them as thick red goo dripped from her mouth. Her eyes widened for a split second, but she managed to wipe the blood off on her black jacket. Unbeknownst to her, Eros crouched by her side; wailing her name. He couldn't make sense of what was happening to his master, and why he couldn't touch her.

"I'm sorry, Eros. You may not understand the intention of my action now, but please trust me on this."

She gritted her teeth and pushed through with the pain. Slowly but surely, Wrath crawled her way up and on her feet.

"Ptui," she spat the irony taste on her tongue onto the drain. "Hahaha… I didn't think it would hurt this much."

Lust walked into the kitchen wearing his baby blue hoodie and grey sweatpants with a tiny towel over his wet hair.

"Mmm… Is that beef stew I'm smelling?" he sniffed.

"Oh, you're finally done sulking?" his brother tapped his fingers on the dining table.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let's dig in!"

"Huh? What's up with you? I thought you– "

"He's just neurotic like that. Forget about it and grab some stew," Wrath closed the balcony door and got into her seat.

"I don't know how you two manage to live together for almost four years without killing each other."

As she scooped a ladle of stew into her bowl, her classmate noticed the auburn stain on the corner of her lips.

"What's that on your mouth?" Pride pointed.

"Oh, I accidentally bit my lips trying to open a new set of candle for the altar," she casually licked it off and tried to play it cool.

The dinner went on smoothly as Lust asked his brother about the poorly cut vegetable. They laughed it off and shared stories about things that happened in the past two days. The owners of the apartment teased Pride and tried to convince him to give their neighbor a chance.

"Why are you being so standoffish? Are you too good for her? I'll admit she might not have the best personality, but the girl can cook," Wrath explained.

"That's not what I'm saying! I just think we won't be good for each other. That's all," he got flustered.

"Is that really all or are not a fan of redheads?"

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Did you bring her in the house?" his older brother questioned.

"Hmm… Not that I remember. She just kept on ringing the doorbell that one day and disappeared on the next. Maybe she came to her senses."

"She doesn't seem so bad to me. I don't see why you were so against talking to her again."

"What?! Are you crazy? She's nuts! Even worse than her!" he pointed at Wrath.

"Hey! Don't bring me into this, but I agree that she acts differently in front of you," she glanced at her roommate. "Maybe we're teasing the wrong person here."

"Eh? How could you turn against me like that? Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

She shrugged and sighed, "I frankly couldn't care less about her existence. I just wanted to add fuel to the fire."

Wrath stood up and collected the empty bowls before lightly rinsing them in the sink. She grabbed the tub of Bavarian cream out of the fridge and thawed them on the kitchen counter. The brothers watched as she pulled out a tiny pan and poured her special glazing sauce on it. She heated up the pan and added a splash of cognac on top. She formed a circle with her index finger and thumb and pursed her lips against it.

"Adolebitque," she blew out fire unto the sauce.

Eros watched in amazement at his master's new ability.

"Fire and Air manipulation…" he muttered to himself.

At that moment, he knew she was trying to prove that she was capable without someone else's help. Wrath had always had someone by her side to pick her up from the same wreckage she put herself in. Though he was forced to follow her obscure order, he reluctantly dematerialized and let the other spirits guard her house. It was a hard, but necessary choice.

"Woah! Is that another new thing you learn?" Lust exclaimed.

"Yeah, pretty neat huh?" she poured her flambé sauce over the portioned dessert.

"Does that mean you would stop losing my lighter every time we smoke together?" Pride joked.

Lust smacked his brother's face with a napkin, "don't you ever take things seriously?"

"Ouch! What was that for? I would do it if I had the ability to," he harrumphed.

"But you don't."

"Why do you have to rub in my face?"

"Am not."

"You are!"

"You're still childish as ever, aren't you?"

"We're only a year apart! Don't act so old."

As the brothers ironically continued their petty quarrel about who was more immature, Wrath excused herself to take a long-needed shower. The sound of water droplets bouncing off the surface of the filled bathtub dimmed the sound of her painful and heartfelt sobs. She clawed on her shoulders, pulled on her own hair, and dunked her head in the lukewarm bath water.