Descent ch 5

Photo by 五玄土 ORIENTO on Unsplash

There were few things that shocked the Thorn twins. Mercer had a tendency to attract trouble ever since they were little and Mircalla, well, Mircalla attracted her own personal brand of trouble that Mercer learned to deal with early on in their childhood. So, Mercer can honestly say that she wasn’t surprised when her sister answered the door, took one look at the hand she was holding in a death grip and grunted only once before turning a megawatt smile on Weiz.

“I guess I should say welcome to the family, Ms. White! What took you so long?”

Weiz humored Mercer’s twin with a small amused smile and let Mercer drag her into their small apartment and towards the living room. Mercer hopped up onto one of the three barstools and Weiz took the one next to her without question, never dropping the warm hand that always seemed to be gripping hers like a lifeline. She wasn’t sure whose line it was and suspected it was a shared one that either could grasp when things became unbearable which seemed to happen often for some reason. Mircalla walked back into the kitchen where she was washing up dishes from what must have been a late lunch. It seemed that every pot in the kitchen had been used at some point during the process if the large number of pans in the drying rack was any indication.
“Jeez, sis, did you use every pot and pan that we own?” Weiz turned her surprised gaze to Mercer only for it to widen when Mircalla simply laughed. “But of course little sis. It isn’t a home cooked meal — ”

“ — unless you’ve used every pot and pan you own,” Mercer smirked as she finished her sister’s sentence.
“That’s right! And don’t forget it!”

“Whatever,” Mercer rolled her eyes in good humor.

There was a comfortable silence as they watched her sister finish up the dishes and then proceeded to put on a pot of tea. She tossed the dishrag over her shoulder as she leaned against the sink and Weiz couldn’t help the trepidation that filled her gut when she met the gray eyes of her mate’s twin. But they weren’t quite the same she realized as she gazed into them. Mircalla’s seemed to be a softer gray whereas Mercer’s were sharp as a blade. Mircalla’s seemed to always be smiling at some hidden joke. “So, Ms. White!”

“Um, please, call me Weiz,” Weiz stated, feeling unsure of herself. Usually, when she spoke it was with an air of authority and a demand to listen or else. It was the way she was raised. She would speak and others would listen. Yet at this very moment, she felt like she should be the one listening and that she should also tread carefully as she was walking on unsteady ground.
“How did this,” she waved her hand between her sibling and Weiz, “Become official?”
Mercer opened her mouth to answer but quickly shut it when Mircalla leveled her with a gaze that was suddenly very hard. She turned that same gaze on Weiz and the heiress suddenly had respect for the shudder it sent through her. Weiz nodded in appreciation which softened Mircalla’s gaze if only slightly. “I molested her on an elevator.”
Mircalla’s eyebrows rose up to her forehead. “On an elevator, you say? Well, can’t say I’ve heard that before. Did she molest you back?” Weiz picked up on the sharp undertones of the question and had to pause a moment before she answered. “I think so?”

“You think?”

Weiz thought hard then nodded her head. “Yes, she did, eventually,” she added the last word as an afterthought. Mircalla held her gaze for a long moment. Weiz held it back. She held back the smirk when she felt Mercer squeeze her hand. There was her lifeline, she thought. Suddenly, Mircalla smiled and Weiz relaxed slightly, realizing she had passed some type of sibling test of courage. “I approve, then. If you can keep up with my sister’s pace then I have no reason to stand in your way.” Mircalla stepped closer as her voice lowered, “But if she ever wants out of this, mate thing, I’ll do everything in my power to stand not only in your way but in the way of the whole White family so long as there is a breath in my warm body.” Weiz held back the gulp in the tense moment before Mircalla stood back, grabbing the tea kettle just as it started to whistle. “Tea?”

Weiz felt a breeze on the back of her neck and realized suddenly how clammy her hands were when Mercer adjusted her hold. She nodded absently and Mircalla set about making them all a cup. Weiz thought her family was protective. Compared to her parents who had been compared to grizzly bears in the past, Mircalla was much much more terrifying. Where her parents came at you head on, Mircalla was obviously the kind of woman that swept in at the dead of night and slit your throat before you even gasped enough breath to scream. Weiz had heard of these two twins in passing once when she visited the hunters association. It had taken facing Mircalla to remind her of what she had heard. Once, when she visited the association she had heard one of the tellers talking about two girls that had just returned from a particularly hairy mission.
Weiz stood to wait for her turn to speak with the administrative officer two people in front of her when she heard one of the tellers gasp.
“They did what?” The other teller, a young girl probably just hitting sixteen, shushed her coworker.

“I was just saying what Jean dealt with this morning. It was the twins again, you see. They took on another raid mission.”

“A raid mission?”

“Oh, that’s right you haven’t been here long enough to hand out one of those yet. Raid missions usually consist of six to twelve hunters. A party. They’re usually only given out as such because they usually deal with killing off one of the high ranking members of the dark race and as such the hunters usually have to enter into a nest where there are hordes upon hordes of the dark race.”
“But you said — ” The other girl nodded.

“Jean said that the twins handed in another raid mission this morning. They both came in covered in blood and who knows what else, walked straight up to her and slammed down the head of a king ranked dark race.”

“Which one?” the other girl whispered.
The girl looked around and leaned in, “King rank, Obelisk The Torturer.”

Her friend gasped and went pale. “They killed Obelisk? Just the two of them?”

The girl nodded, “That wasn’t all, Jean said — ”

“What else?” She leaned in furthers and whispered but Weiz was easily able to hear with her advanced hearing. The girl might as well have shouted it at the top of her lungs.

“They were smiling as if someone told a hilarious joke. They just smiled and giggled as they dropped a bloody severed head on Jean’s desk and waited for her to give them the ticket to retrieve their reward.”

“What?” The other girls gasped once again. This time in shocked awe.
Her friend leaned back in her seat.

“You know what they’re calling them around here now?”

She shook her head.

“The Reaper Twins. One will steal your soul while the other rips out your heart and they’ll both be smiling while they do it.”

Weiz had scoffed at that bit of gossip. She had passed it off as bored children telling exaggerated stories to pass the time. But now, as she sat in the presence of the two twins, and had been on the receiving end of a threat from one while the other held her hand in comfort she couldn’t help but agree with the description from all those years ago.

“A good description indeed,” she whispered as Mircalla placed a steaming mug on the counter in front of her and laughed at something Mercer had just said.




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