Fame, Dagger, and Blood: 2

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Vestuto, DianeMarie

Photo from: https://judexxduarte.tumblr.com/post/675748732873129984/i-do-not-yearn-to-be-their-equal-in-my-heart-i

Yarabella Yang

Yes, her name was Lavina Bathery.

For a long time, she was the most famous assasin in the town of Laenheald. The Assassin of Laenheald, they called her. Laenheald, the city of the red lake.

They called Laenheald that because in the center of their city, a large, crimson body of water frothed and spilled onto the shores. They say that Lavina washed her hands in that lake every time she killed a victim.

She was not only an assassin. She was a serial killer.

9 victims had been found, their bodies in the same exact position: splayed, with their arms spread orderly, palms facing the sky, cupping the clouds in their limp hands. 

Nobody could catch her.

That was, until someone did.

That someone’s name was Wolf.



The sharp voice of the gym teacher cracked over him like a whip.

“Okay, God…” he muttered, picking up his pace just so slightly.

They were in gym class, but Wolf was the least expected person to ever be excited in gym. He was thin, relatively short for his age, and absolutely loathed gym.

Was he in school?

No, no he was not.

He was training.

A “police-in-training”.

It made his flesh crawl just thinking about it. He didn’t want to become a police. No, who would? Who want to be running around all day, carrying guns and knives and hoping to find some sort of sliver of a clue, hunting and occasionally on the brink of death? Risking their lives for some greater good, blindly stumbling into traps they didn’t even know existed, how is that worth it? Especially with that Lady Blueberry or whatever her name is running around, it was like stumbling in the dark trying to catch a snake. Like, seriously?

His father was the sheriff.

That was the only reason why he had to do this.

And it made Wolf hate him even more as his gruff voice cut through his scathing thoughts.

“WOLF! You’re not running fast enough, pick your feet up!”

Wolf rolled his eyes and walked over to him. “Dad, please. Can we have lunch now? I’m starving.”

“Just go and get a sandwich or something. I have to go now.”

“Can’t you stay for lunch?” But Wolf already knew the answer before his father gave it.

The expected no came, and Wolf slumped, anger coiling at the bottom of his stomach.

“Love these warm, heartening memories were making, Dad!” He called after his father’s retreating back. His father ignored him and slammed the door so hard he could see the dust particles waft into the gym.

He took the other door on the opposite side of the gym to his father’s office. Scattered folders and files lay on his desk, next to the chair. The chair was the kind that spins, the black leather chipped and pealing. Behind that stood a refrigerator.

Wolf grabbed a loaf of bread from the refrigerator and a packet of turkey. Picking up a knife, he made himself a sandwich. As he did, a couple of crumbs fell onto on of the files. Wolf brushed the crumbs off, and leaned in closer to read the name:


His head spun. Lavina Bathery? Wasn’t she the all famous killer, the one who had killed a bunch of people? Finishing his sandwich, he turned with troubled thoughts tumbling in his mind, just in time to see a flower beast walking across the road.


Anathea Livy struggled to hold the armful of red dahlias that she had picked from the mountain earlier that day. The bright petals tickled her face, the fresh, sharp aroma overpowering her nose. The sun beat down on her, her braid slapping wetly on her back.  As she was passing the police department, she saw a curious young man with bright blue eyes and untidy dark hair, sticking up in all directions.

Not looking at where she was going, her foot caught on a cobblestone and sent her toppling forward, red flowers flying from her hands, her vision turning into a hazy blur of crimson.

Pain exploded on top of her head as she struggled to stand, stars blinking in and out of her sight.

As she scrambled to her feet to pick up the flowers, Anathea suddenly found herself face to face to the boy with the blue eyes.

“Oh, er… hi,” she said awkwardly, scooping up armfuls of flowers into her hands.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly, “I saw you fall while I was eating and I just thought, you know…”

“That’s really nice of you, ” Anathea said warmly, forcing a stem between her already full hands.

“Here,” he said quickly, handing the rest of the flowers to her, “So, um, why do you have a whole meadow of flowers in your hands?”

“Oh, my grandmother really likes red dahlias, so I thought I’d get her a bunch.” she said, immediately feeling very silly, flushing as red as her flowers, the blush creeping up her neck onto her cheeks.

“No, I like it.” he said quickly. “What’s your name? Mine’s Wolf. Don’t ask.” he added, with an air of someone who was too tired to be ridiculed.

“I’m Anathea. Don’t ask.” she said, making Wolf smile.

“I have to go now, the sheriff is coming.”

Anathea must have let the surprise show on her face, because he explained, “He’s my father.”

“Good for you,” Anathea said bitterly, “Well, I have to go now. I’ll see you around.”

She turned adruptly and left down the road, leaving a very confused and bewildered Wolf behind her.