Eleanor watched as a petite woman emerged from the shadows, her features illuminated by the faint light. At first glance, she appeared young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, but as she drew closer, Eleanor noticed the fine lines etched around her eyes and mouth, hinting at a more mature age, possibly in her 40s. The woman's appearance was deceptively youthful, with a slender build and an air of quiet confidence.
As the woman approached the man, she gazed at Eleanor with an unreadable expression, her eyes seeming to bore into her very soul. There was a detachment about her, a sense of emotional numbness that made Eleanor wonder what had brought this woman to such a state. The woman's gaze lingered on Eleanor for a moment before she turned to the man, her eyes flicking to his face with a hint of familiarity, as if she had performed this routine many times before.
The man jerked his head towards Eleanor, his eyes never leaving hers. "Go do your job," he said, his voice low and even, but with an undercurrent of command. The woman nodded almost imperceptibly, her expression never changing, and turned towards Eleanor. She walked with a deliberate slowness, her hands outstretched in front of her like a surgeon about to perform a delicate procedure.
The woman's hands settled on top of Eleanor's head, her fingers splayed out like a spider's web, and began to move in a slow, rhythmic motion. As she touched Eleanor's skin, she started to murmur in a low, husky voice, the words indistinguishable, but the tone was hypnotic and unnerving. Eleanor strained to listen, but the words seemed to be in a language she didn't understand, and the cadence was almost... ritualistic.
The woman's hands seemed to be applying gentle pressure, but Eleanor's head began to throb with a sharp, piercing pain that made her cry out. It felt like her skull was being squeezed, her brain compressed, and her thoughts scrambled. The pain was relentless, building in intensity, and Eleanor's vision began to blur. She was drenched in sweat, her body trembling with the effort to endure the agony.
As the pain intensified, Eleanor's screams grew louder, more desperate. She begged the woman to stop, to let her go, but the woman's hands remained clamped on her head, her fingers digging deep into her scalp. The pain was like nothing Eleanor had ever experienced before - it was as if someone was rummaging through her mind, probing her deepest thoughts and memories.
Just when Eleanor thought she couldn't take it anymore, the woman's hands lifted off her head, and the pain ceased. Eleanor gasped for air, her body shaking with relief. The woman stepped back, her face expressionless, and turned to the man, who was watching with an intent gaze.
The woman's gaze met the man's, her eyes locking onto his with a serious intensity. "I can't get in," she said, her voice low and measured.
The man's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in concern. "What do you mean?" he asked, his tone sharp with curiosity.
The woman's expression remained solemn. "After the explosion of that car, it's almost as if every other single event was wiped out by someone," she explained, her voice dripping with a mixture of fascination and frustration. "Someone more powerful than me, I might add. I tried retrieving the memory, but there's a huge block. It's one of the oldest spells used, and it can't be broken by anyone apart from the person who cast it... and her herself."
The man's eyes seemed to bore into the woman's face, as if searching for any hint of deception. But the woman's expression remained steadfast, her voice unwavering. "Truly, she's saying the truth," she continued. "Her memory held the pendant before the accident, and at the hospital, it was gone. The block is impenetrable, and I couldn't find any evidence of the pendant's whereabouts."
The woman's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. The man's face darkened, his eyes flashing with anger and disappointment. He seemed to be processing the information, his mind racing with possibilities. Eleanor, still reeling from the pain and the probing, watched the exchange with a mixture of fear and hope. Could this woman's words be the key to her freedom, or would they only lead to more trouble?
Eleanor's mind was racing with questions and fears. She thought about the woman's ability to seemingly read her memory, and how that was even possible. It was as if the woman had accessed her thoughts and memories with ease, leaving Eleanor feeling vulnerable and exposed.
As she looked at the woman and the man, Eleanor wondered who they were and what their connection was. What was the pendant's significance, and why were they so desperate to find it? The more she thought about it, the more questions piled up in her mind.
Who was the woman, with her mysterious powers and detached demeanor? And who was the man, with his calculating gaze and air of authority? What was their relationship, and what did they want from her?
The pendant, once a simple family heirloom, had become a focal point of their interest. Eleanor's thoughts swirled with possibilities, but one thing was certain: she needed to be careful, and she needed to find a way out of this situation before it was too late.
The air was thick with tension as the man and the woman discussed Eleanor's fate, their voices hushed but their words dripping with an undercurrent of menace. Suddenly, a voice pierced the air, its tone laced with amusement and sarcasm. "Well, well, well. So this is where you kept my person."
All heads turned towards the voice, shock etched on their faces. No one had seen the person enter, and yet, there he was, standing with an air of nonchalance that belied the intensity of the situation. Eleanor's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of Lucian, his messy hair and rumpled clothes giving him a laid-back look that didn't quite match the fierce glint in his eye.
As Lucian's gaze met hers, Eleanor felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed quickly by a sense of wonder. How had he found her? And how had he managed to appear out of nowhere? Before she could process her thoughts, the woman muttered a few words under her breath and vanished into thin air. Eleanor's eyes followed her, and she felt like she was witnessing magic.
Her gaze snapped back to Lucian as he strode across the room with an unnatural speed, his eyes fixed on the man. In a blur of motion, Lucian caught up with him and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him off the ground. The man's eyes went wide with fear as Lucian's grip tightened, his face twisting into a snarl.
"Well, that lady did herself good by escaping that fast," Lucian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but not you." The man's face turned deathly pale as Lucian's eyes seemed to gleam with a hunger that made Eleanor's skin crawl.
The man's voice was barely audible as he begged, "Please, don't kill me." Eleanor watched in shock as Lucian's teeth elongated, his fangs sharp and menacing. With a swift motion, Lucian sank his teeth into the man's neck, and Eleanor felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched the man's life force being drained away.
Lucian's eyes never left the man's face as he drank, his gaze seeming to savor the fear and terror that played across the man's features. When he finally withdrew his fangs, the man's body went limp, and Lucian let him drop to the floor with a look of distaste.
Eleanor's eyes were wide with shock, but Lucian's gaze met hers, and he gave her a lazy smile. "Hey, kitten. Miss me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, as if they were meeting for a casual coffee date rather than in the midst of a violent confrontation.