Twelve

"Where do we go from here?" Emalia asked, "he said Chaos might have the crown."

"Who's Chaos?"

Mal rolled his eyes at Valentine but answered anyway, "Jairus' right hand man, which means we need to go to the land of Pride. I will be back in a week, you guys better pack, it will be a long trip between the islands."

Mal stood to leave but Rosario grabbed his arm, "I'm going with you."

The demon smiled slightly but didn't protest. The two disappeared in a mixture of gold and black dust leaving the same substance on the floor. Valentine grumbled under his breath about not cleaning up after yourself while Emalia watched with amusement. With a groan, the boy got up and walked into the kitchen to grab a dustpan and brush. The fairy snapped her fingers and the dust was gone just as Valentine returned.

"I swear!" He turned back around and put the things back in place before coming back and sitting down on the armchair previously occupied by the angel, "so….a week of school."

"No, a week to prepare for a possible death," Emalia rolled her eyes but Valentine could tell she wasn't joking.

The week slowly passed in comfortable silence that seemed like a blessing compared to the hectic few days that Valentine had befallen victim of. The backpack sitting in the corner of the room packed with clothes was a forbidding reminder of what will happen at the end of the week of rest he was given away from the Greyworld, he didn't miss the curfew though, he enjoyed sitting out and watching the stars even if the threat of getting eaten alive loomed in the air. On Sunday, he decided to go to the hospital. Like all hospitals it was white and the floor was tiled and everything smelled of medicine. Doctors and nurses were walking around some pushing patients who were on wheelchairs and others helping older patients walk. Valentine went to the counter where a tall woman sat typing away on her laptop, he looked around the white marble top until his eyes landed on a silver bell. Hesitantly, he pressed down on it and cringed at the loud ring it sent through the large hall.

The lady looked up with a raised eyebrow, “How can I help?”

Valentine cleared his throat, his heart stuttering in his chest nervously, “I came to see Isabelle Black. I was told she was here.”

“Family or friend?”

“I’m her brother.”

A look of pity passed over her face for a second before she came right back with the tiniest hint of a smile, “right, she’s on the second floor, room 777.”

“Thank you,” he smiled and left.

He walked down the corridor slowly, dreading the reality and the altered memory. He came to a stop outside the room just as a doctor came out, he saw Valentine and smiled softly, “here to visit?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “how is she?”

“She’s doing really well, still a little bit shaken up and it appears she has some sort of amnesia, she can’t remember what happened and appears to have forgotten all about her brother.”

A cold bucket of dread spread through him as if someone had dipped him in a river that had just thawed and ice shards were digging into his skin. The tears that pricked his eyes felt like fire, he quickly blinked then looked between the door and the doctor, he cleared his throat but his voice still came out scratchy and broken, “that’s unfortunate.”

The doctor sighed but nodded before clapping him on the shoulder, his sleeve slightly rolled up revealing a blue mark that seemed to ripple between shades of the colour while white washed over it before retreating like the foam of waves.

“I need to go treat other people,” his lips pulled up into a small curve before falling, then he left, leaving Valentine staring at the white door with the number 777 hammered into it in golden metal.

The blue haired teen took a deep breath before entering the room, the little girl sat on the bed laying with her favourite plush bear and the square eared bunny Valentine gifted to her on her third birthday. Her head had a bandage around it and so did her elbow and knee, she looked up at the sound opening and met Valentine’s gaze with big innocent, curious brown ones.

“Hi,” he drawled in a playful manner like usual as he closed the door with a soft click.

“Who are you?” she chirped, unaware of the way Valentine’s heart shattered at her question or the bitter taste it left in his mouth at the thought of all the people who’s sisters remembered them. He just hoped this wasn’t the memory alteration Emalia had mentioned.

He struggled to keep a smile on his face as he answered, “I’m Valentine, a friend.”

Isabelle furrowed her eyebrows in thought, something their mother always did when she was trying to figure something out and that only made his heart painfully wrench, “you remind me of someone.”

Valentine chuckled softly as he sat down on the edge of her bed and she moved closer, “I get that a lot.” which was a simple white lie that wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Isabelle moved closer until she was practically in his face examining him, taking in every detail and he did the same trying to memorize her face. The little mole on the tip of her nose, the faint sprinkle of freckles, the small scar on her chin from when she fell on the stairs when she was two. Isabelle spoke in a small hushed voice, “you remind me of someone but I don’t know who.”

The boy smiled slightly and ruffled her hair, “don’t worry about it.”

He looked out the window and sighed. The sky was already changing shade into orange and pink and the blue at the top was slowly turning to black. Valentine turned back to his sister who was back to messing with her plush animals, “I gotta go.”

“So soon?” the little girl whined, seeing the look on his face she sighed, “okie, but promise to come back soon?”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I promise, now get some sleep.”

She groaned but fell back into the bed with a small thud and cuddled up to the bear and rabbit, Valentine took the job of tucking her in. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, her eyes drooped at the feeling of her forehead being gently stroked. Soon, she started snoring softly and Valentine took that as his cue to leave. He closed the door softly then left, he mumbled a small thank you to the receptionist as he exited the building and out into the cold sunset dyed streets.

He pulled the hood of his jumper up and pocketed his hands. Valentine walked with his head down sometimes kicking some stray piece of rubbish as if it were the most hated thing in the world. He sighed heavily as he trudged along the pavement to his lonely home.

The door opened with a click, then closed. The lights switched on and Valentine stopped in his movement at the sight of the three Greyworldians sitting in the living room, Mal and Rosario still looking like members of a Mafia gang and Emalia like some cool cowgirl. He sighed again and walked to the kitchen, he rummaged through the fridge before being stopped by a pale and cold hand falling onto his wrist. He looked up and came face to face with the demon.

“Don’t bother,” Mal stated, “I’ll make something. We can discuss over dinner, we’ll leave after. There’s a train we have to catch.”

He sat down beside Emalia and only then just took on what she was wearing. Her pants were brown leather and she wore a green crop top with an open back. Her boots looked like leaves wrapped around her feet and secured with a string. He also noticed the green mark that settled between her shoulder blades, it looked like someone had stuffed moss into her skin.

“That’s new,” he commented.

Emalia looked up at him from where she glared down at the ground, “Her majesty decided Faerfolk should get their own mark like how people of magic have their own. It’ll only be a matter of time before the gods state that clear sighted humans get their own mark.”

“Clear sighted?”

“It means that you can see through the glamour,” Rosario stated. He got up and returned seconds later with plates that he set out on the table, he sat down and turned to Valentine, “what happened?”

The mortal looked up at the angel, he put his hands in front of his face and slumped forward his knees supporting his elbows, “How’d you know?”

“Something in your eyes,” Rosario leaned back, “I see it in Mal when something happens.”

The mentioned walked into the room with a warm silver pot, his hands were in oven mittens, he put it down with a small clank then turned to Rosario with accusing eyes, “What were you saying about me?”

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” then he turned back to Valentine, “so, what happened?”

“Sit down at the table first then talk,” Mal snapped at them, “while the food is still warm.”

The angel raised his hands in surrender before sitting down at the small table of four. It sort of made him feel better to not be sat at an empty table with a three day old takeaway for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He looked up to see everyone staring at him expectantly even Emalia who seemed ready to just dig in.

With a sigh he began, “I went to see my sister before coming home.”

“And?” Emalia urged her best friend who hesitated.

“She doesn’t remember me,” after a moment that was filled by a wide eyed Rosario spitting his soup out, Emalia gasping and a pitying look from Mal he turned to the fairy with accusing eyes, “it couldn’t be anything to do with the memory altering spell could it?”

“No,” Emalia stated, “my friend said it was purely natural due to her hitting her head.”

“Your friend doesn’t happen to be that doctor with the weird mark on his wrist?” Valentine raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s a warlock,” Emalia nodded, “why?”

“No reason, he just seems like a nice guy.”

Mal and Rosario exchanged a glance, the angel shrugged and turned back to his meal. The demon sighed then gestured to the food in front of the two youngest, “eat.”

Emalia and Valentine nodded and proceeded to dig into their meal like ravished dogs. A loud ring suddenly passed through their house, everyone paused and looked between themselves. The ringing was repeated multiple times before the person was banging their fist into the door frantically like the replacement for a cry for help.