1 - The Ancient Ones: The Ancient Ones Trilogy by Cassandra L. Thompson

Author:Cassandra L. Thompson [Thompson, Cassandra L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Ancient Ones Trilogy#1
Publisher: Quill & Crow Publishing House
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

OMEGA

CHAPTER 5

THE IMPOSTERS

LONDON, 1857

The last dying embers of the fire finally extinguished themselves, yet David did not stir to revive them. He watched thin entrails of smoke escape from the skeletal remains of the firewood, drifting listlessly up the chimney flue into oblivion. Still no sunlight peeked through the drapes, although the rain had ceased. He lazily retrieved his pocket watch, surprised to learn that the sun would be setting soon. His body ached as if it was early morning.

He finally rose from where he sat, pausing to drape another blanket over his slumbering companion. He wasn’t sure when she finally gave in to its inevitable lure, but he had no desire to wake her unnecessarily. He brushed back a lock of hair that interrupted the smooth plane of her cheek, noticing a cluster of bruises below her neckline. Her lungs wheezed with each grueling breath, and he wondered if she would be able to make it through another night.

He removed a cigarette from the almost empty box near where she lay, lighting it with the last match. He drew a sharp inhale before extinguishing the waning candles with a wave of his hand, putting the room to rest.

The ostentatious grandfather clock in the hallway chimed rudely as he walked past. It provoked a smile as he imagined Lucius would have highly approved of the design, had he lived to see the nineteenth century. He realized he hadn’t thought of him, nor Morgana, in a great many years, even though for centuries they had been an inseparable triumvirate.

He couldn’t recall exactly when he changed, when the fundamental characteristic of being an immortal ceased to stir him, and he drifted into an endless mire of melancholy and regret. When exactly the thrill of the hunt and the lust for blood were replaced by the harsh realities of empathy and guilt. He’d tried to keep their emergence a secret from his friends, pretending to enjoy feeding off humans as much as they did until he could no longer bear the burden of his facade. The particulars were lost to him, the endless centuries bleeding together, distinct memories artfully avoiding capture.

The house was still, Jacob long retired to his gatehouse in anticipation of nightfall. The hall clock kept time with his footsteps as he slipped past the staircase into the foyer, retrieving his coat and a pair of hunting boots that had been resting neatly against the wall. Although his own chambers beckoned him, reminding him of the many days since he’d last slept, he knew his mind was too restless for slumber.

The evening air rejuvenated him as he pushed open the heavy arched doors, the aroma of rain-soaked earth drifting pleasantly towards his nostrils. He was immediately grateful to be wearing boots as he carefully maneuvered his way through copious pits of mud towards the back of his estate. The graveyard materialized ahead of him, its headstones darkened by rainwater, rivulets still running down the flat stones of the boastful mausoleum. He

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