Chapter 13

"What did Lord Rayven want?" Her brother asked once she came back.

"You will go to the castle tomorrow and start your training," she told him.

His eyes widened. "Really? Did he agree to train me?"

Angelica nodded.

Her brother became excited, but it only lasted for a moment before his face turned sad.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

"Father won't let me," he said.

Angelica smirked. "He has no choice. I am sure His Majesty asked Lord Rayven to train you so you have to go to the castle."

And her father also had to go to the castle. What was he thinking by neglecting his royal duties? The punishment could be severe.

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What if he was busy trying to kill whoever he wanted to kill? If he killed someone, things would turn ugly.

Angelica was becoming frustrated with his behavior. She had been trying hard to make her father and brother get along. She had tried to make his actions appear to be out of care so her brother wouldn't hate him, so her brother wouldn't feel like he only had her, but maybe also because she wanted to believe that deep down. And while she tried to keep the family together, her father was out causing trouble.

Tonight was the same. Her father didn't come home until late at night and drunk again. This time, he wasn't singing or yelling. He looked sad as he fell back on the sofa.

"Father, talk to me," she pleaded. "Why are you doing this?"

"I can't sleep," he slurred. "Every time I close my eyes, I see his eyes."

Angelica went closer to listen. Tonight, he was talking and she could understand his words. It seemed like he didn't drink as much as the previous nights.

"What do his eyes look like?" she asked.

"They were red. Almost black. They were hollow." He shivered at the memory before turning to her. "It is no surprise. He has no soul." He said.

"Is he the one killing the women?"

"Yes. He is a monster. A demon. He feeds on these women. That is why I have to kill him or he will grow stronger with every soul he takes."

Angelica frowned. All this sounded so unreal, yet she knew there was something behind what her father said. He couldn't just be making up everything. Maybe exaggerating, but something was going on in their town.

"And how do you plan to kill him?"

"I'll find a way," he said, lying down on the sofa.

"It is dangerous to do it alone. Maybe you should talk to the king so he provides you with forces to catch the killer."

He was about to close his eyes when he opened them widely. "The King?" His voice quivered. "He won't help me. He is the one. It is him."

The king is the killer? Couldn't be.

Angelica leaned closer. "What do you mean?"

"He is a monster. He is the devil," he said, curling into a ball.

He looked like a frightened child.

"Father…"

"Ask no more. I want to sleep," he said.

Angelica stood up and walked away, completely confused. Why did her father believe the King was the killer? Why would the King kill young women?

Something wasn't right and Angelica kept thinking the whole night until she fell asleep.

Early in the morning, she woke up to a loud shriek. Turning around, she found William covered in sweat and out of breath next to her. He had his hand placed over his chest and his eyes were wide.

Angelica sat up and wrapped her arms around him. "It is alright. It was just a nightmare."

He shook his head, "not anymore."

Pulling back, she looked at him questioningly.

"You said my nightmares never became true before. It is because they showed the future. They are becoming true now. The deaths, the new ruler, the dark times in our town."

Did this mean that the King was truly the killer? She shook her head, refusing to believe it.

"The monsters chasing you," he said, recalling his nightmare about her. His eyes widened even more. He became terrified.

"You can't die. They have to find the killer," he rushed out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I have my lecture today, so I need to go to the castle in time. Lord Rayven hates those who come late and I need to talk to him. He is Lord of the manor so he is responsible for the people in our town."

Angelica scoffed. "When did Lords ever care for the people?"

"Lord Rayven is different."

"He is, but that doesn't mean he cares. The people of this town think he is the killer, so why would he help them?"

Her brother paused and became thoughtful. "You are right."

"William, I'll be fine," she assured him.

"Then I'll talk to the King," he said. "He listens to me."

The King? The one her father thought was the killer. Clearly, her brother didn't think the same. Nor did she.

"You don't think the king is the killer?"

Her brother frowned, "no."

"What makes you so sure?" she asked curiously.

"I like him. He can't be the killer." He said and then left the room.

He liked him?

Angelica couldn't believe that her brother used the word like for someone other than her. She almost smiled because of it.

Almost. Because her father's words still haunted her, and Angelica would rather be more cautious than not. Even if the King wasn't the killer, he was different. But did different necessarily mean bad? Maybe she was just like everyone else. Judging him and being suspicious because he was different. Would she have treated him the same had he not been different?