❝You're a demon.❞
❝And you're not entirely human.❞
❴ SEASON 1 - ONGOING ❵
All her life, Iona Hardy has been intrigued by the darkness and what it will do to a person. W...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
The three of them, writhing around against their bounded restraints, stare back at their deceiving reflections. They flinch at the abruptness of the change in lighting, taking a moment for their faces to adjust. My shoulders drop in relief at their fairly unharmed appearances, especially at Jo's, thankful that she is alive. Her wide, attentive eyes, furious from being overpowered and captured, meet mine, weary yet tumultuous. She traces down my shadowed face to the chains hanging from the shackles around my wrists. And by adding in the three witches prancing around my chair, I can already tell she's ready to kill every last one of them. You and me both, sister.
Sam twists against his bound wrists, mumbling into the cloth wrapped around his mouth. The witch impersonating him frowns, pouting his lips in a childish manner, which causes Sam to snarl back at him. Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still, his dangerously lethal gaze locked onto the monster wearing his skin for fun.
"All right, I said knock it off," I call to the Dean clone, drawing him away from the negative field of energy between him and the hunter.
The witch slowly spins on his heel in my direction, tilting his head as if I had just spoken out of turn. "Complaining already?" He authoritatively walks forward, spinning the blade in his hand. "Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but you don't run this show." The tip of the knife presses into the back of my hand, twisting and turning with added pressure. I grit my teeth, sucking in a breath, which brings him abhorrent comfort.
"But I must thank you all," he pulls the blade out with a smile and turns to the three seated on the floor, "for making this part so damn easy. Especially you three." His hand gracefully drags the weapon out in front of his eyes, pointing them all out. "You've kept her on her toes. Without each of your estranged opinions of her, she wouldn't be as malleable and, quite frankly, absolutely vulnerable as she is now."
The witch shuffles forward, mindlessly picking at his nails with the blade. His gaze only lifts to sparingly address each of the hunters, shooting bullets into his skull. He starts with Jo. "You want to protect her." The blade then drifts in Sam's direction, wildly spinning about as the witch ponders the connection between the hazel-eyed hunter and me. "You want to...like her. And you," he finally rests on Dean, who still hasn't moved a muscle, "You want to kill her."
"It's all too beautifully edacious for my little heart to handle."
At the mention of the life-supporting organ, I scan over his body to see if he even actually possesses one, given his insensitive tirade. But as I half-heartedly glance his way, my senses discover something else within him – like the flame of a candle being swallowed by a shroud of darkness. The realization washes over me, prompting a knowing smile and even a light snicker.
"Mind telling me what's so funny?" He drops the playful façade, sending me a frightening glare meant to scare me into submissiveness. But I'm far past keeping my mouth shut.
