Capítulo 189: The Protectorate V
It was a travesty. The hunters had gone past his manor's defenses and directly engaged in alcoholism inside of the parlor room. Of course, these hunters were more civil and liberal in their use of big words than their other kin, which was one of the reasons he got them here.
Even Edward, who was cowed into submission, was having fun, angling to flirt with Ella and Lady Anastasia every time he got up to take another platter of finger foods.
Speaking of unbelievable hunters, Irwin still couldn't believe Rufus Turner was in his home. The man was his second-favorite recurring character in the show and, frankly; it was a close tie to his first, who was Crowley.
'Now that I think about it. Crowley became secondary, then part of the main cast after a while, so, technically, he's my favorite recurring character.'
"You're staring, you know?" Asa whispered surreptitiously as he took a shot of tequila.
"What? No, I'm not." Irwin said, almost unconvincingly.
Asa chortled. "Everybody knows."
Embarrassment flooded Irwin's cheeks, which was thankfully abated by another knock on the door. With skillful ignorance of Ella's mocking laughter, he went straight for the door and found Garth by the porch looking at Tobi's son's baby pictures.
"Uh, hey?" He called out.
"Sorry, I'm late. Here, keep it. I laminated one for myself a decade ago." Tobi pushed the picture of the naked baby towards Garth.
Garth refused with a shake of his head. "No, thanks. Naked baby pictures are cute in your wallet, but criminal in mine."
Irwin pressed the bridge of his nose to pop the bubble of laughter in his throat. "Jesus. Come on in, Mr. Colette. We're just having drinks–Oh, Toni!"
Riding in his low-hanging motorbike, the leader of the gang of hunters arrived just in time to see Garth fumbling with naked baby pictures in his jacket.
He got off his bike like a Bronco descending from his stallion, a lit cigar in his mouth. "Am I late–Are those naked babies?"
Garth immediately threw them away, "Those are not mine. I mean, they are now! Because he gave them to me, but the baby is not mine."
Toni gazed at Toby and asked, "You got kids?"
"Three, one on the way. Want to see some pictures?" Toby was downright ready to throw more baby pictures and what seemed to be ultrasound images out of his wallet when Toni waved his hand.
"No, I'm good." Toni stepped away from the man and extended his hands towards Irwin. "Hey, thanks for inviting me."
"Your crew got in right at the motel?" Irwin shook the biker's hand.
"Owner didn't even make a peep when Jackson started showboating. Thanks for that." Toni was about to step inside when he halted by the door frame. "Your town having a festival or something? Lots of people walking by near the square."
"Not to my knowledge. Garth, would you take a look, please?" Garth nodded and hurried out of the conversation, still red from the baby pictures.
"Do you guys like drinks from the 19th century?" Irwin asked.
"Who doesn't?"
●●Brunhilde●●●
Living in a castle again was not without its difficulties, but knowing what awaits her past the boundaries set up by the Grand Coven had an amazing effect on her insecurities.
Being all alone, however, was a different matter. While she may have guarded the forests south of here alone, it was not without its break from isolation.
Solitude was a three-man job for her and, unfortunately, her employer had killed the last two men.
Now she's truly alone, in every sense of the word.
The Grand Coven had left a skeleton crew when they raided the island and Irwin had helped her empty the castle after they left, leaving her to worry about the security of the castle.
It wasn't that bad at first. Sure, scattered witches that used to be part of the coven made their way through and she would have to kill them once in a while, but that was part of the problem that she really liked.
The part of the problem she had a… problem with was that the witches liked to use hexes as part of their offensive; so not a day went by the first three weeks that she found her game rotting or wheat crawling with bugs.
Still, the wards and automated defensive structures engraved by the Grand Coven, and reconverted in his use, were of great use to her during the second phase of the witches' attacks; although she would need to clean them whenever they were used.
Her life's routine became relatively calm these past few days, no more witches knocking on the trapdoors or stray monsters needing to dominate the area–an event that had become far too common for her liking.
Before Irwin left her to her devices, he had deemed it important enough to teach her the ways of mankind in so much as the appliances in the castle's pantry and thirteen bathrooms.
One of the greatest aspects of living in the castle was the full use of their coffee maker. No longer would she be able to taste the fruit of a monkey's labor once a month and no longer would it taste as dark as the coals used by the god that had made them.
A creamer was a god-send, and she had requested another bag when she sent her weekly letter to Irwin a day earlier. She was expecting his answer right about now in the form of a spiritual owl, who would transform into a slew of parchments that would scatter around the room.
It took her a few days to repurpose a wastebasket to catch the letters, finally ending the astonishingly onerous chore of picking up paper without ripping it in half.
She was sitting on the balcony atop the second highest tower within the castle, the full view of the Austrian mountain in her eyes, when the spiritual owl's dotted visage slowly blocked the bashful sun.
She readied the wastebasket and caught the owl without so much a strain in her expression, save by the disappointment in her face. The owl was not filled by papers, thereby wasting three days of her time, and was instead cored with what seemed to be a device Irwin used to hold whenever he went to the bathroom.
A hand reached out towards the device, gently caressing its sleek black casing before nearly dropping it in response to its sudden vibration. A melodious ringtone followed the vibration as the front half of the device lit up with a phrase written within.
Press thumb grn bttn, slide
Having already been informed of this exact scenario weeks ago, she gently pressed her thumb across the glass and waited for Irwin's voice.
"Hello? Hilde, are you there?" As she had expected, the mere echoes of his voice from the other side of the globe brought unwell anger stirring within her body.
Although she thought it might be the case, there was something within her–something so deeply embedded within her very foundation–that allowed her to push past the anger and answer with an affirmative.
"Alright. Listen, I don't have much time. I want you to research a monster in the castle library."
"What kind of monster?" She asked.
A sigh came out of the other side. "That, I don't know. She didn't react to silver nor any heavy metal. But security cameras caught flares in her eyes, so maybe a shapeshifter."
"Child of the skin burns at the touch of silver." She reminded him.
"I know, but Alpha ones don't." His rebuttal sounded true, but was, in fact, false.
"The Originals are not the only ones, although they are the most likely suspects." She thought far and wide, reaching into the depths of her memories.
She had hunted one too many monsters and guardians in the centuries that she guarded the forest and the years before that, too, and she had learned a thing or two about them.
There was a hunt she partook in the night Thrudgelmir came into the hands of the Grand Coven, whereupon the child of the skin quickly wore and tore skin and flesh with such gifted alacrity and devious wit that seven witches died at the hands of their allies.
Only when the rays of the moonlight fell upon their skin and broke away the goo on their flesh that she decapitated them and ended the week-long hunt.
"There may be a way." She hesitated to help him, but there was something within her that twisted her tongue and she belted out her words. "When a female shifter bore unto another child with another of their kin, that child is possibly stronger than the rest."
"That sounds… easy. Why wouldn't the Alpha just create an army of super shapeshifters by creating a breeding farm?"
She sighed, "Because all male shifters are sterile at birth, except, of course…"
"The Alpha." Irwin grumbled low enough that the device did not pick up his voice. "Fuck. The Celeste is a first-gen shapeshifter."
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