Whispers of Fate: Part 12

Part 12

The gods and their chorus of vampires couldn’t help but watch as the young witch, with a small broken girl in her arms, and her entourage of ragged inmates, walked out of the castle unopposed. As far as the vampires could tell, their fearsome king, that which they had served under for the better part of four hundred years, had walked into the dungeon with a little girl and their inmates had come out with Kestrel nowhere to be seen. This very fear sent them to their knees, each one praying they wouldn’t be the next to fall.

However, Natalie had no intent to kill anyone. She had seen plenty of blood spilt, and that was enough. Out through the courtyard, and through the front gate, which had been opened for her to pass through with ease, the witch walked. She walked an entire day back to London, not a single word was spoken. Even the inmates, despite their talkative nature, were silent. Instead, they just walked with her. With nowhere else to go, she was their best hope for a new home. 

When they came upon London, she led them straight to the Royal London Cemetery. Natalie laid Drysi in an open patch of land behind the morgue. With her bare hands, she began to dig a grave. The Court of Mold, upon seeing the hole begin to form, crouched and began to dig as well. 

Three hours later, they laid the girl, forever young as she will be, into the ugly and imperfect hole, just as she would have wanted. Another hour and the earth had been filled in once more. Hands stinging and wrist throbbing, Natalie stood up and cracked her back. A short second later, she spoke the first words in nearly fourteen hours. “Will you help me rebuild my home?”

Stunned by her words, the court slowly nodded. Natalie allowed a faint smile and motioned to the wrecked morgue. “I know this will be a large task, and it will not happen in a day, but I think we can do it. What do you think, Reddick?” 

The tall man, with short platinum hair, rubbed his stubbled chin, flinched a couple times and spoke out in his posh accent. “Mmmm… Yes, I do think this will be quite the undertaking, but I do need a castle, and my subjects do need a home, so I think it will also be worth it. Quick! My general Winifred! Go to the nearest store. Steal a couple tents for us.”

Nif, which appeared to be short for Winifred, saluted his king and started off. Natalie, while not a fan of stealing, found herself too tired to argue. Not even five minutes later, Nif returned with his beefy arms full of supplies. “They didn’t give me much trouble. Maybe they knew my cause was just.”

Natalie looked the dirty man up and down. Yeah, six feet tall and just as wide, a face only a mother could love, hip length black hair, and arms as big as her waist. Surely it was because his cause was “just” that they just gave him all this free stuff. Even in the face of all that had occurred, she found herself laughing. “This will make for the beginnings of a great coven. Let us start tomorrow then.”

Nif shook his head as he dropped the supplies. “No. The sun is in the sky and there is still strength in our arms. We will start today. You rest, if you need, gardener, we will take it from here. Up and at them, subjects!”

 Before she knew it, the court had gone to work moving the stones and setting up the tents. She felt bad just sitting on the ground but she felt far too weak to do anything else and so she merely supervised. Upon her lap rested a warm hand. She turned to see Ashallalah sitting next to her. 

“You are doing well, my Mar- Natalie. I am grateful that you are returning to me. I know I have done you many wrongs but I believe that we can patch it up together. What do you say, Mother Natalie?”

Exhausted, Natalie rested her head on the goddess’ shoulder. In a voice hoarse from tears, she whispered into Ashallalah’s ear.  “You misunderstand. I do not worship you. I worship what you stand for, what my sisters fought for, what Drysi died for. When you start believing in those things too then, and only then, will you be my goddess. Till that happens, you do not belong in my coven and you are not welcome in my home.”

Unsettled, the goddess pushed her head off her shoulder and stood. With a quiet smile, the goddess nodded. “So it shall be.”

Without another word, Ashallalah walked into thin air leaving Natalie watching as Grind and Millie argued about if a pillar was a stone or if it was still a rock. She smiled. It was clearly a stone.

“They have ruined the plan.”

Mol stood upon the roof of a nearby shop, his chains jangling in the wind.

“Nay, merely revised it. Perhaps we still have something to learn from the mortals.”

Ashallalah rested her hand in his, her fingers wrapping around his chain. Mol shrugged. “Still, your chosen has rejected you. Yet, her magic works. Why do you enable their whims as you do?”

Ashallalah shook her head and laughed. “You stubborn old prick, tis because I wish to see what they do. Us of the divine have a hard time understanding free will. It makes sense we should find it vicariously through these living specks of stardust, wouldn’t you say?” 

Mol grunted. “Thousands of years, innumerable generations, and you will always cling to their stubbornness as an attribute. We need new hosts, and you still value them over us. Your entertainment will degrade us both, don’t you see?”

Ashallalah kissed him on the cheek. “We have gone this long, what's another few years? Besides, you have me. That should be enough for all the insolence in the world.” 

Mol watched the strange men toiling in the rocks, their laughter ringing off the buildings. It softened his cold heart, even in the slightest. He sighed. “Yes, you are right, as always. I shall let them have this. For now. Good night, my love.”

He kissed her on the cheek as well. She grinned. “Good night, Mol.”

With their last words, they dissipated into the stars beyond the sky, the mortals now left to their own devices for the time being. All was good with the world which could be and that was good enough for them.