Chapter 218: Caelan now Alistair

One Hour After Alistair’s Death

Caelan heard the footsteps

He had been wondering how long it would take Miranda to return, and it appeared he finally had his answer.

He was sitting in one of the chairs near the bed, holding a bloodied shirt against the wound in his chest.

The bleeding had not stopped.

It was a rather strange thing because he had expected the wound to hurt but there was nothing...not even the slightest discomfort.

He could feel the blood running down his chest. He could see the wound whenever he removed the shirt, and he could tell that the blade had gone rather deep yet there was no pain.

Perhaps that was one of the advantages of inhabiting a body that was not his

The footsteps grew louder.

Miranda had left the room mere minutes before Alistair walked in. He wondered what she would say when she discovered what he had done.

Nothing pleasant, he was certain.

He looked toward the body lying on the floor.

The knife still protruded from the man’s forehead, and the blood beneath his head had begun to darken.

Caelan had considered moving him but decided against it.

Miranda would know what to do... she always did.

He had not meant to kill Alistair... not yet, at least but everything had happened rather quickly after he had noticed the candle.

What was he supposed to have done?Allowed the man to kill him?

He had only just returned from the dead.

He was not about to go back because some fool had decided to enter a room he was not supposed to enter.

Still, he knew Miranda would not see it that way.

She had spent the better part of a week reminding him how important it was to remain hidden.

She had told him repeatedly that they needed Alistair alive until the time was right.

And now, he was dead which was unfortunate.

The door knob turned and Miranda entered, closing the door behind her.

Her attention on the bag she had in her hand.

"I have been thinking about what you said earlier," she began. "And perhaps there is a way we can..."

She raised her head and stopped walking.

The bag slipped from her fingers and landed on the ground with a dull thud.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the body lying in the middle of the room.

"Caelan?" she whispered, taking a step forward.

Caelan watched her from the shadows, realizing she could not see him from where she was standing.

He considered stepping out immediately to reassure her that he was alive, but something made him hesitate.

He wanted to see what she would do.

Miranda approached the body slowly, her face pale.

"Oh, fuck." She dropped to her knees beside Alistair and stared at the knife protruding from his forehead. "What in the name of the goddess happened here?"

She reached for his neck and pressed two fingers against it.

Caelan decided he had seen enough and cleared his throat.

Miranda spun around in his direction, her hand flying to her chest as he stepped out of the shadows.

He watched her express move from confused to disbelief and then the realization of what had happened.

"What did you do?" she hissed at him, rising to her feet. "What did you do, Caelan?"

"He came into the room and attacked me." Caelan gestured at the body. "I was standing at the corner of the bed and he saw me then came at me with a blade."

"Attacked you!" Miranda snapped. "I left you alone for ten minutes, Caelan...ten minutes and you were supposed to be quiet, you were supposed..." She broke off, staring at the body again, and her hands came up to press against her temples. "What the fuck have you done? He is dead. Caelan, he is dead."

Caelan looked at her, and wondered, honestly, what all the noise was about.

Was that not always the plan?

Alistair was always going to die.

The whole arrangement they had required Alistair to be dead, and Alistair was dead now. The only difference between this and the careful version of the plan was a matter of days.

It was far from his fault it had happened earlier than it should have. The man had walked in on him and swung a knife.

"I have already told you that I did not intend to kill him." He removed the shirt from his bleeding chest. "Now, if you are quite finished, there is something else I believe requires your attention."

Miranda turned to him and her face drained further of color.

Blood spilled from the wound in his chest, running down his stomach.

"What the fuck?" She crossed the room immediately. "Why did you not tell me you were injured?"

"I told you he attacked me."

"Sit down."

He obeyed.

She knelt in front of him and stared at the woman, her eyes dark.

The injury was deep.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No, it does not."

Miranda looked up in surprise.

"Not even a little?"

"Nothing."

"That is strange." she frowned.

"I thought so too."

"How long has it been bleeding?"

"An hour, perhaps."

She muttered something under her breath and Caelan watched as she placed her palm over the wound, her eyes closing.

A faint glow appeared beneath her fingers.

She began murmuring words in a language he recognized but had not heard spoken in centuries.

He remembered those words.

It was the very same Morgana used to chant when she performed healing spells for the wounded.

Caelan watched her work and he found himself thinking that he had always considered Miranda very attractive.

It was a strange thing to think but it was true.

Time had changed very little about her appearance.

Her features were still delicate. Her hair still fell around her shoulders in dark waves, and her eyes retained the same sharpness he remembered.

Granted, she was far too old for him now but he considered her attractive nonetheless. He wondered how many centuries she had spent keeping herself young.

When she removed her hand, the wound was closed and only a tiny scar remained.