Smoke And Mirror (Royal Angel l) S01 E44

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3 years ago

Smoke And Mirror (Royal Angel l) S01 E44

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 44

“Prince hates Pixar”

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Victoria

Biscuit sang about as well as a pigeon.

A goth pigeon that OD’d on heroin after spending five years in pigeon juvie.

Boy could rap but give him Sweet Child O’ Mine and you’d shoot yourself with a Gun and lay some Roses on your own grave.

I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry as I watched him singing karaoke in the bar, thoroughly drunk. His friend strode into the bar right then and literally stopped in his tracks.

I raised a glass to him, deciding to play nice.

“Top of the evening to you, Your Royal Bästerdliness.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Good one, Lady Bîtch Face of the Not-so-Assassin’s Creed.” He shot back, sitting on the furthest bar stool from mine. “What the flying fück did you do to him?”

Clearly, Prince Blue Eyes – Xavier or Danny or whatever his name was – hadn’t gotten Biscuit drunk enough to see this miracle.

“I gave him the adult dosage of whiskey.” I answered. “I think he deserves a Grammy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Right then, Biscuit climbed on top of a table, ripping the buttons off his shirt in what I could only assume was the start of a strip dance.

The Prince was mortified.

“I don’t know what’s funnier.” I told him, downing a tequila. “Him singing like a drowning dog or you gaping like Nemo’s dad.”

“Odd.” He said, shuddering. “Because I’d like to forget this is happening. You know, like the weird blue fish?”

“Dory?” I was outright offended. “Wow, you really do have memory loss.”

“Well, that’s not possible mostly because I haven’t seen the movie.” He admitted.

“It’s official then.” I pronounced. “You will henceforth be referred to as Princess Dory of House Living-under-a-rock.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Sorry I didn’t spend my time watching Disney Princess rip offs.” He nursed his Cognac. “Some of us actually have a country to run.”

“You sure make time for ripping vampire Princess’s clothes off. Careful, Disney’s going to feel neglected.”

He glared at me.

“It’s not like that.” He hesitated. “With her it’s never been about that. It’s on a different level, I guess.”

He thought about it real hard like he was trying to explain Planck’s constant to me.

“I’m in love with the way she always hesitates before she talks. The way she looks at a child like they’re all little miracles. The way her eyes sparkle when she gets lost in her own world.

I don’t know if I’m in love with her yet but I’m certainly in love with simplest things she does.”

I looked at the idiot on the table, smashing a bottle on the ceiling, thinking he was juggling.

The simplest things make me want to gag him and throw him in the back of a trunk.

“A toast to you, Sir Ässhat.” I said, solemnly. “Because one glass of liquor in you and you become Casanova. I’ll be sure to pass that on to Princess Bella Swan.”

He definitely didn’t get the reference and mumbled something in response before he went back to drinking.

I rolled my eyes and went to the table, where Biscuit was in the process of tossing his expensive shiny Rolex off.

“I’ll take that.” I said, catching it midair. “You wanna get down now, Biscuit?”

“Oh, I definitely want to go down.” He said. “On you.”

He was too high up to smack.

“How about you lay off on the alcohol?”

“How about you give me a dollar bill and I’ll give you a private dance?”

“Virgin in Haven, I will pay you everything in my bank account not to take your clothes off.” The Prince fired from the counter.

“Annndd… that’s what she said.” I shot back at him. “Ka-Ching.”

Understandably, his middle finger was getting a work out today.

I was about to get on the table and drag Biscuit by any body part I could reach, when I heard a slow hiss.

A shadow appeared by the far end of the bar, steel glinting in the dim light of the near empty room.

“And the whole party’s here.” The client said, not bothering to hide his face anymore. “This is going to be fun.”

The Prince gasped through the haze of the alcohol, instantly recognising his brother. We’d told him our theories of course, but he’d been quick to dismiss it because apparently his brother would never want to kill him.

The sharp metal in the client’s hands told an entirely different story.

“Jared.” He said, quietly. “How – How are you here? I thought you -”

“Oh, I died.” The shadow replied evenly, moving stealthily towards us. “I have a generous friend trained in the Olden Arts.”

I could only assume that meant necromancy from their exchange.

The Prince looked at him in wonder and it only dawned on him when a blade missed his collar that the guy was going to kill him.

“What are you doing?” His eyes went wide. “I’m your brother. Jared, look at me!”

The client’s eyes showed no spark of recognition and it was only then that I caught the almost robotic way he moved.

Almost like he had no free will.

“You’re Prince Xavier Grigori.” He said, lips twisting in disgust. “And all of your kind deserve to die.”

He didn’t make an effort to move, only threw his blades at the speed of light. The Prince finally came to his senses ducking down under the counter.

The client turned his attention on me and I felt that familiar chilling panic.

I had no guns, no blades, nothing.

Barely avoiding his blades, I looked for something. Anything at all to defend myself.

It was only a moment later when I got on the floor, that I noticed something very obvious.

The client wasn’t standing on the ground.

He was floating an inch over it.

The Prince finally got the courage to grab a bottle from behind his hiding spot and aim at his brother.

“Don’t!” I yelled.

He dropped the thing out of sheer surprise. “What the fück, Victoria?”

“He’s not real.” The words felt so familiar in my mouth. “He’s a ghost. He’ll vanish if he touches anything.”

The Prince thought about it. Thankfully, he didn’t skip a beat, pulling some next level parlour trick and conjuring a gold thread that bound his brother’s form from thin air.

The shadow went still and lifeless, just hovering in the air.

I took a deep breath.

This means it’s over, right?

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around full well expecting to be stabbed or something because my luck was just that awesome.

A very drunk Biscuit, wearing nothing but boxers and dimples stood behind me, just chilling, like we hadn’t just captured a serial killer ghost.

“Still waiting for that dollar, baby.”

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Victoria : “I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO The simplest things make me want to gag him and throw him in the back of a trunk.