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Portia Lightwood stood on the shore of her island, a small smirk on her full lips. One fang pricked her bottom lip slightly as she watched her sister's little white death-boat disappear in the distance. One arm was slung over her hip, the other raised, using her hand to shade her eyes from the sun so she could see better. In the hand on her hip, hung a pair of glittering silver heels. She couldn't wear them in the sand without sinking straight down so she'd taken them off and now stood on the beach in her bare feet and a velvet black dress. A good club look. Too bad there were no clubs on the island.
Her emerald eyes narrowed when Clinton and her little sister reached close to the island across the way and Clinton rose, throwing the tiny shape of her sister into the brutal waves. Portia grinned wickedly, but the wind picked up quickly and as quick as the smile had appeared, it had disappeared, replaced by annoyance as she fought to hold her long black hair in place. Clinton began rowing back and she watched her sister's bound-up form struggle in the water. She'd bound her too-tight on purpose. The little bitch was going over there pretending to be banished. Why not complete their story?
Portia tugged on the edge of her dress as she waited for Clinton to make it back. When he was on shore, she ran out to meet him, letting him haul in the white row-boat on his own. "Think she can do it?" Portia asked with a slight smile at the thought of her perfect little sister failing at something. For once.
Clinton rolled his eyes in slight annoyance when his twin ran out to meet him at the water, but let him carry the load of the boat. "You know Portia, it would be nice if you actually did some labor every once in a while." He grumbled before answering her. He looked up at the smug look on her face and glanced at the glittering heels swinging carelessly in her hand before looking back down at the sand again with his own smile. "Not a chance. They'll kill her before she even utters a word." He laughed lightly and threw the boat down, ushering his sister off the beach and up onto the path that lead to the mansion. When they reached the house, he noted how she let him get the door for her.
"Well if she dies, we've got that nosy little slut off our hands and if she lives, we've got a successful spy. It's a win-win situation." His sister let out a dreamy sigh. "God I'm such a genius." Clinton scoffed and nudged her gently.
"Watch it girl, you get any bigger of a head and you wont be able to hold it up." He reveled in the sneer she shot him and sighed. What Portia had said was true though. Christina was nothing but a little country girl they'd only known for a few years and nothing but a problem. Literally all she did was annoy. She was perfect. She could lie perfectly, steal perfectly, flirt perfectly, had that sweet little country accent, her tiny little delicate frame, and that oh-so-innocent first appearance. It was sickening. Plus, she'd gotten to live with their mother while Portia and himself had been stuck with their piece-of-shit dad. Christina had never ever talked about their mother, but Clinton had guessed that her little country life was just that. Simple and perfect. Giving Portia and him enough reason to hate her.
Portia rolled her eyes at her brother. "Oh please, you know it's true." She stuck out her tongue and laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder for balance as she slipped back into her heels. Instantly, she gained an inch on her brother though she was still shorter than him, the two of them together were enough to intimidate anyone. Both tall and graceful. Oh. Then there was the part about the fangs and the ruthlessness and what-not. "Come on." She gestured. "Let's go tell Katherine."
Together, they made their way out to where Katherine was and Portia smiled at their Coven leader. "Katherine!" She beamed. "We just sent Christina out." She reported. "If all goes well she promised to report to us by tonight. If not, she was killed." Her green eyes blinked hopefully even though her face held a smile.