The Chosen: Veronaville, 1582 Part II
Veronaville, 1582
There was nobody I trusted more than my daughter.
Victoria, despite all her flaws, was a gentle spirit. She was a daisy among black roses. A vicious form of death, but with the innocent and loyal love of a young child. When she devoted herself to someone, she did it with all of her heart.
Which was the reason for her still being by side, a century since I had given birth. I had told her to go; to find her own place in the world. She had refused. And while I do not ever wish to admit this out loud, I am grateful she clings to me.
With her by my side, I am not left to face eternity alone.
Selfish, I know. What kind of mother holds onto her child in hopes of staving off her own wretched loneliness?
This thought passes through me as I watch Victoria crouch ahead, her senses alert. Her dress was tattered and muddy, a sign of the madness that had descended upon the contact with the scent of blood.
It always drove her to a deep desire. Blood, I mean.
It was a curse. One I had inflicted upon her myself due to my greed. Her father would argue that it was his greed that had cursed her, but I knew better. After all, it was not he who had drawn power from a realm not meant for any living creature. He may be of that realm now, but he could draw on its power without consequence, for he was no longer alive.
And I had been the one to put him in such a position.
Victoria suddenly leapt from her position into a tree, her fangs bared.
“North,” her voice carried in the wind. I followed her direction without question. I heard the branch beneath her snap, followed by a vicious snarl. Too much blood. She was trying to distract herself. I moved faster.
I found the woman - the redhead who seemed terrified at the tavern earlier - sprawled on the grass. Her hair, once as vibrant as my own, had faded into a blinding white. Her magic was swirling around her. Good. She was alive.
I knelt down beside her, and her eyes fluttered before she lost consciousness completely. She had seen me. And I had seen her eyes. Demonic.
My heart stopped.
No. Not those eyes again.
“Is she alive?” Victoria asked from the distance.
“Can you not hear her heart?” I asked.
“I'm trying to block it out, mother!”
I rolled my eyes. My poor little darling. She was so afraid she would lose control. She does not give herself enough credit.
I returned my attention to the woman in my arms. The bleeding has to be stopped, so I lift her and turn to hidden path that would lead to my hut. This was my forest, I knew every hidden passage and crevice. Just like others of my kind would.
I prayed that none of them would cross our path. None of my own clan would sense me, or even recognise me if they stared me straight in the face. But others would at least be aware of my presence.
Although they would sense and observe a human; an outsider. Never would they suspect that in reality I was no human, nor an outsider.
As I passed the trees, I spotted from the corner of my eye the figures of Gehenna and Assiah. Both had removed their hoods, and their identical faces watched me with an aloofness only their father could have passed on to them.
They had stayed behind and waited. Which meant Thanatos had known I had followed from the tavern. He wanted me to find the human woman and take her to safety. No, perhaps that was not entirely true. It was not his desire, but rather his Master's. I laughed at the irony. Here I am, the fae that should be dead, once again being ruled by some powerful source I do not fully understand.
Why does this always happen to me? Why must I be the old woman who has literally seen and done everything? Why is this my fate?
“You made a choice, Lolita. Your choice came with a price. And now you must repay it. As I must repay mine.”
Those were my father's final words to me. And then he left, leaving me to live out my eternity on the earthly plane, while he continued his journey in the lands of our ancestors. A place I could never go, just like my daughter.
Kiernan already had a fire going by the time I got to the hut. He had heard our approach, and despite his dislike of flame, had conjured one anyway. For the human.
I playfully pointed out to him that I could have done it with a click of my fingers.
He looked very unamused. Luckily the scowl on his face vanished when Victoria glided through the door. They both shifted and disappeared into the night sky - time for their hunt.
I placed the woman on my bedroll and tended her wounds. While she slept, I prepared her a meal. After that, I disappeared outside to rake the leaves gathered beneath the trees.
It was just past dawn when I heard her scream. I rushed inside, expecting to find something frightening. Instead, I found the poor soul standing by the mirror, her fingers pulling at her hair. She turned upon my entrance and I blanched. Now I understood why she screamed.
Her eyes. Gone was the hazel colour I had glimpsed in the tavern. In its place was a rich, deep violet. A colour I did not recognise, nor even knew could exist.
“What did he do to me!?” she demanded. She stomped over, grabbed my shoulders and shook violently. “Tell me! What did Death do to me!?”
“I do not know,” I muttered. For I did not. The demonic eyes I had witnessed before, but the white hair and violet eyes were new. Something I had never encountered before, even in my several centuries.
The woman crumpled to the ground and shook by my feet. “I have been defiled. There is no place I can now go without being seen and judged. Everyone shall know I dabbled where a human should not!”
Social stigma was a cruel thing. And fear made people do silly things. I understood her panic and felt my heart bleed for her. I knelt before her and placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
“What is your name?” I asked.
She looked up, tears streaming down her chocolate-coloured cheeks. Finally, she hiccupped and whispered: “Hecate. My name is Hecate. And what is yours?”
I smiled sadly. “You may call me Lolita.”