Whispers of Fate: Part 8

Part 8

Silent as ants within the undergrowth, the witch and the wolf crept along. Their hearts, although beating out of sync, were keeping the same tension building beat, like war drums within their chests. Neither of them was a stranger to how vampires hunted and the very thought of a branch crack or a too loud breath was enough to almost stop their breathing as a whole and freeze their limbs in place. However, the fear of being caught was enough to keep them moving. 

Through the trees, its red eyes blazing in the shade, wove a snake, a large python unlike any you would ever see in England. Twice along its journey did it stop. Once to kill a rabbit that had buried its nose in the snow, its cold flesh now left, dry of all blood, in its frozen coffin. Another time to coil up a tree and observe the bearers of the footsteps it now followed with purposeful pace, its ears following the beat of war drums in its mind. 

Stepping deftly over a fallen branch, Natalie was halted by Drysi’s upturned hand. Head on a swivel, the wolf began to sniff for their predator. When she couldn’t pinpoint the strange scent, she continued forward with Natalie at her hip. 

For a while they walked, their ears twitching at every sound, hair raising at the lightest wind. At the sound of rustling, Natalie swiftly turned, brandishing the bangle out before her. When nothing came, she lowered her arm. Just as she started to move, something snagged her foot. Looking down, she was met by the twin eyes of the snake staring right back into hers. Frantically, she tried to throw fire at its scales but her arm was pulled away, the fire lighting up the trees. The snake, which had wrapped itself completely around both her leg and arm, became the figure of a tall pale woman, her hands holding Natalie’s in a death grip. The woman growled and yanked at her arm but Natalie pulled back. 

Another, far more sinister growl filled the air and the woman, who she could now see was wearing soldier’s leather, the large insignia with the name ‘Siskin’ glaring in the moonlight, looked at her with a sudden fear that had taken the place of malice. In one, swift action, the vampire was flung away from the witch, her hands still wrapped around the bangle. As her arm bent with the force, Natalie heard a crack in her hand yet felt no pain, her adrenaline wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she was just vaguely aware something was wrong with her wrist. 

The vampire, now scrambling to her feet in the snow, took one look at the beast as it took a couple tentative steps at her as if it were a wrestler sizing up its opponent. Aware she was not going to win, the snake once again appeared on the ground and was rapidly beginning to slither back into obscurity. It did not get far, however, before its tail was pinned to the earth by a large foot covered in darkened fur. Struggling against the overwhelming force, the vampire returned, her long nails clawing at the beast that now held her own foot in place. The beast, unwilling to play games, made a lunge at her, its large arms wrapping around her in a massive hug. Lifting her off the ground, it began to squeeze with all the force in its body. Unable to move, the vampire made herself into a snake and fell out of the beast's arms. Once again, it tried to escape but the beast tired of her running. Pinning the tail once again, it reached down and took hold of the snake's head. 

Natalie had no choice but to watch in mesmerized horror and the large snake was torn in twain, its bloodless body now held limp within the beast's claws and under its foot. Once the deed was done, it began to double over, casting the snake into the brush. Slowly, with the crack of a thousand bones, Drysi now laid upon the ground clutching her stomach. Natalie, unsure of what else to do, rushed to her friend’s side. 

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

Drysi shook her head, turned over and vomited any soup she still had in her system. Natalie, being weak of stomach, looked away until she had finished.

“I’m… I’m ok. That was just a rough one. Are you ok?”

Natalie laughed at her friend’s lack of self preservation and began to inspect her wrist and a cut left on her pinky finger, no doubt from the woman’s claw-like nails. “I’ll be ok, I just need to do some healing.”

She was disturbed by the hint of yellow within the cut but decided to shake it off. Surely it was nothing. Helping Drysi to her feet, she began to guide her in the same direction they had walked before. It was no longer safe where they stood. The sooner they made it to London, the better. The remaining witches at the coven would be a welcome help and their healers would help her much better than Natalie would on her own. Afterall, it was difficult to heal your own wounds and it would be bound to go awry if she were to attempt it. 

At the foot of Scafell, the pair stopped for the night before continuing on their journey. Despite Drysi being sure of the presence of numerous vampires, they never once encountered any during the four day journey back to London. Perhaps it was by providence that their pursuers were less than intelligent and had stayed on the mountain, expecting their prey to come back to them for some unknown reason. Either way, they were grateful to be free of the trouble of dealing with them.

Natalie laid her foot upon the first cobble of the great city which had been her home since she could remember her own name and she couldn’t help but think London had forgotten what it was. Nothing substantial had changed. Maybe the weathering on the rocks, maybe it was the foreign smell of burning bread, maybe it was that there were just slightly less people, but something felt off. 

Shaking the strange feeling from her bones, she continued to guide Drysi through the crowded streets. Anyone new would have needed a map but she knew every step like an old friend. 

A couple iron street lamps, one which was cracked, and a couple more turns and they had made it to the main street. Normally, had the street been more clear, she could see the mausoleum from here. However, it was the midday rush of businesses and traders that clouded her vision. Still, she pointed ahead. “It’s just up there. Soon you will meet my family in a more formal sense.”

Drysi felt sick again. She knew what they would see but couldn’t fathom what her friend would say, and if she would even be able to call her that anymore. 

Despite this, she swallowed her guts and helped Natalie push through the crowd. A few more people, a few more steps and…

Natalie stopped. She dropped Drysi’s hand and stared. For a long time she stared. People passing by looked at her as if she were a statue. She rubbed her eyes, still not there. Again, still not there. Why wasn’t it there? Why? What… Why?

After a few hesitant steps, the witch broke into a sprint. Drysi couldn’t bear to run and so she simply stayed at arms length from the running fountain of tears. Mumbling to herself, “No… No, no, no…”

Natalie frantically stumbled and crawled over the debris, over cracked stone and fallen graves. Despite her broken wrist, she began to claw away at the rock hoping for something, anything but the dust of nothingness. She pulled at the stones until her arm hurt too much to move properly. Taking the bangle in her good hand, she began to bash it over and over against the rubble until that hand also hurt too much to work. Only then did she stop. Slumping over against what was once the mausoleum, she began to cry, large clear tears staining the grey desolation. 

Onto Natalie’s back, lowered a warm and forgiving hand. The fingers traced down her arm and held her wrist with gentle ease. “My Mara, let me fix this for you.”

Without looking up, she pulled her hand away. In a form of desperate rebellion, Natalie slipped the bangle onto her good hand, turned her other one over, and began healing much faster than anyone ever should. The pain was great but her hurt was greater. Even this was nothing any more. Her wrist violently popped back into place and her pinky began to rapidly mend as the infection spread. The cut closed but the finger itself grew dark. The pain felt good, it was a reassurance that she was still alive and so she continued, weeping the whole time.

Ashallalah couldn’t help but look on in fear at that which she had broken. It was like watching a wind up toy walk itself off of a high shelf in favor of the floor below. She tried to reach for her but found her godly hand frozen in transit.

When the mending eventually came to an end, the finger had completely rotted off and the flesh where it had once been had closed itself over the bone that still remained, a stump, a shadow of itself. At last, Natalie rested, her newly mended hand rubbing the fallen pillar. While her head was bowed, a familiar sight caught her eye. Reaching down, her fingers returned gripping a burnt and cracked wooden mask in the likeness of an owl. In a voice as soft as hell itself, she addressed the goddess. “How could you let this happen?”

Ashallalah took a step back. “I… I had to.”

Natalie’s head whipped up, tears scattering in the wind. “Why? What twisted and cruel world calls for you to let a slaughter like this happen?”

Suddenly the goddess grew indignant. “How dare you address me like this? You dare question my motives? Do you forget who I am? I am your goddess. Never forget that. Besides… the murderer is behind you. Why do you not accuse her of the same?”

The witch hopped to her feet and steadied herself on the rocks. Her voice was louder than she could ever remember. “At least she’s sorry. At least she is penitent. But what has a goddess to be penitent to? A mortal woman? Another god, one which you tried to make? Well, you failed and now you only had me. Now you don't even have that either.”

With as much strength as was left in her body, Natalie threw the bangle into the rubble. Clasping the mask in her arms, she took one look at Drysi then back at the goddess. “Get yourself a new Mara. No, I take that back. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. You face the vampires yourself for all I care.”

Without another word or another glance, the witch began to walk back down main street. Stopping by Drysi, she merely nodded and walked on. Drysi followed her with her eyes until the witch disappeared into the crowd.

Ashallalah hung her head, lifted her arm and landed a solid slap upon her wrist. Then a slap upon her own cheek before her mortal form dissipated leaving Drysi alone in the streets of London. 

It didn’t really bother her being alone for most of her life but now it felt as if it were the worst fate any man could endure. 

On shaking legs, she began to crawl over the rubble. Taking the bangle in her hands, she found that its glow had gone and the bracelet, while unbroken, was colder than the snow. After lingering for a moment longer, she found that she had enough with everything. With nowhere else to go, she began to subconsciously walk back to Cambridge. There was nothing left in London for her, not anymore.