Read Online Snow Heart by Arvalee Knight - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Arvalee Knight
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this. “No, sir.”
“Are you lying to me, Eliza?”
Jacob wrapped his arms around his companion.
Alric leaned down to them and watched their bodies flinch with fear. “She is no princess, little ones. She is here to kill you in your sleep while you are dreaming. She is a Demon in disguise.”
Eliza’s eyes widened at the thought.
Yet, Jacob shook his head lightly muttering, “She’s a princess.”
Alric, quite used to Jacob’s mumbles, understood exactly what the self-conscious boy had said. “Are you questioning my authority?” Alric was holding himself back from snatching up the boy’s collar.
“She,” Jacob continued, “is a princess.”
Before Alric could lash out at the children a familiar stone-cold voice said his name. The two frightened ones dashed for the cover of the long grasses towards the main entrance of the front yard.
Alric straightened his posture considerably; he was too arrogant to let Bartolemé get the better of him. “What do you want?”
Bartolemé walked to his family’s leader’s side after taking off the brimmed hat from his head. “I came here to tell you about Danzig’s demise. I thought you’d be rather excited about the matter.”
Alric gave a slight smirk to show Bartolemé that he was in fact overjoyed. “One less I have to worry about.”
Bartolemé nodded his head a single time then dug around in the confines of his dark brown overcoat. He pulled from the inner pocket a cigarette and stuck it between his lips after wetting them. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Alric.”
Alric made no effort to respond—he wouldn’t let Bartolemé know he cared.
“Well,” Bartolemé began to say while lighting the tip of the cig. “Danzig did not in fact die from old age as we assumed. He had been definitely poisoned by someone.”
Alric tilted his head; he liked the idea of someone poisoning Danzig but he didn’t like the idea of Bartolemé accusing him of the crime. Alric did like to enjoy poison as a weapon for his victims but Danzig had been a different case. Danzig was one of the cursed and members of the cursed were not allowed to be killed by Alric.
Thus the purpose of Bartolemé—the cop, the mediator, the judge. He was the one who had to stop Alric’s rage when it was inflicted upon his Court of Cursed-Ones. Bartolemé didn’t like stepping in but it was a part of his existence. It was instincts that pushed him forward into the dealings of Alric. The file seemed endless—broken bones, ruptured ligaments, bruises, concussions. You named it; there was most likely a case that started with the name Alric.
“I was at home,” Alric told him with bitter tasting effort. “Ask Wilhelm.”
Bartolemé took down a breath and sighed. “I did.”
Alric narrowed his eyes. “What did he say?”
“I want to see the girl,” he said without putting any more effort in Alric’s suspicion. “She will tell me the truth when I ask her.” That was a sign in itself: Bartolemé didn’t trust Wilhelm’s word in fear that he may lie to help Alric.
Alric turned his head to the side, giving Bartolemé a profile of his face, as if insulted by the mere idea. “You wish to interrupt my life with these insolent ideals that I would dare murder my own Court. Now, furthermore, you wish to enter my home?”
Bartolemé closed his eyes. “It’s my job. You know that.”
“Bastard,” Alric said while heading towards the house. “You’ll be the first I kill when that night comes. Prepare for it.”
CHAPTER 9
Nieves stared at Alric at the entrance of the room. She sat calmly at the edge of the bed trying to understand what was going on. A man, draped in an overly large brown overcoat was standing in front of her talking in a gruff voice. She was drowning out his words, not really caring about anything he was saying.
She wanted to know what Alric did with Wilhelm.
“…which shouldn’t be too difficult,” the man said to
“Are you lying to me, Eliza?”
Jacob wrapped his arms around his companion.
Alric leaned down to them and watched their bodies flinch with fear. “She is no princess, little ones. She is here to kill you in your sleep while you are dreaming. She is a Demon in disguise.”
Eliza’s eyes widened at the thought.
Yet, Jacob shook his head lightly muttering, “She’s a princess.”
Alric, quite used to Jacob’s mumbles, understood exactly what the self-conscious boy had said. “Are you questioning my authority?” Alric was holding himself back from snatching up the boy’s collar.
“She,” Jacob continued, “is a princess.”
Before Alric could lash out at the children a familiar stone-cold voice said his name. The two frightened ones dashed for the cover of the long grasses towards the main entrance of the front yard.
Alric straightened his posture considerably; he was too arrogant to let Bartolemé get the better of him. “What do you want?”
Bartolemé walked to his family’s leader’s side after taking off the brimmed hat from his head. “I came here to tell you about Danzig’s demise. I thought you’d be rather excited about the matter.”
Alric gave a slight smirk to show Bartolemé that he was in fact overjoyed. “One less I have to worry about.”
Bartolemé nodded his head a single time then dug around in the confines of his dark brown overcoat. He pulled from the inner pocket a cigarette and stuck it between his lips after wetting them. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Alric.”
Alric made no effort to respond—he wouldn’t let Bartolemé know he cared.
“Well,” Bartolemé began to say while lighting the tip of the cig. “Danzig did not in fact die from old age as we assumed. He had been definitely poisoned by someone.”
Alric tilted his head; he liked the idea of someone poisoning Danzig but he didn’t like the idea of Bartolemé accusing him of the crime. Alric did like to enjoy poison as a weapon for his victims but Danzig had been a different case. Danzig was one of the cursed and members of the cursed were not allowed to be killed by Alric.
Thus the purpose of Bartolemé—the cop, the mediator, the judge. He was the one who had to stop Alric’s rage when it was inflicted upon his Court of Cursed-Ones. Bartolemé didn’t like stepping in but it was a part of his existence. It was instincts that pushed him forward into the dealings of Alric. The file seemed endless—broken bones, ruptured ligaments, bruises, concussions. You named it; there was most likely a case that started with the name Alric.
“I was at home,” Alric told him with bitter tasting effort. “Ask Wilhelm.”
Bartolemé took down a breath and sighed. “I did.”
Alric narrowed his eyes. “What did he say?”
“I want to see the girl,” he said without putting any more effort in Alric’s suspicion. “She will tell me the truth when I ask her.” That was a sign in itself: Bartolemé didn’t trust Wilhelm’s word in fear that he may lie to help Alric.
Alric turned his head to the side, giving Bartolemé a profile of his face, as if insulted by the mere idea. “You wish to interrupt my life with these insolent ideals that I would dare murder my own Court. Now, furthermore, you wish to enter my home?”
Bartolemé closed his eyes. “It’s my job. You know that.”
“Bastard,” Alric said while heading towards the house. “You’ll be the first I kill when that night comes. Prepare for it.”
CHAPTER 9
Nieves stared at Alric at the entrance of the room. She sat calmly at the edge of the bed trying to understand what was going on. A man, draped in an overly large brown overcoat was standing in front of her talking in a gruff voice. She was drowning out his words, not really caring about anything he was saying.
She wanted to know what Alric did with Wilhelm.
“…which shouldn’t be too difficult,” the man said to
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