Legends of Astræa_Cupid's Arrow

by Sophia Alessandrini

  “THEY KNOW,” Tricia declared ominously.

  Crap.

  Chapter 52

  “They cannot step on consecrated ground, less knock our door,” Tiffany corrected her.

  Their stares were on me, looking for my guidance. Me, a stranger and probably their worst nightmare. If I recalled well, in the past, I would never have thought this possible, but I guess hell was frozen, and things had changed dramatically—so dramatically that those girls felt helpless and their egos had been shattered enough to protect and help each other.

  I had no time to waste. I stood up and moved quickly toward Our Lady of The Stars. I ignored everyone’s confused stare. The marble statue with the medallion on her chest looked at me with an accusing cold stare. I was stealing the treasure she had been guarding so zealously. I pulled out my left katana with my right hand and scraped the medallion out of the marble. As the medallion popped out, a long chain came with it from within the statue. I ignored everyone’s gasps.

  My hands tingled on contact. I had no time to waste, so I slipped it over my neck and under my clothing. My chest felt the same prickly tingle I had felt on my hands as it made contact. I breathed deeply to calm myself, but nothing seemed to shake the sudden weak feeling in my knees. Another loud knocking. I was really going to do this.

  “Let us see who it is,” I said, marching to open the door. The rain hadn’t subsided, it was raining cats, dogs, and wolves. Seven large wolves, and…

  A tall guy, who I thought was Gavril at first sight, was stomping his shoes in the rain, onto the muddy ground and away from the chapel steps. I gasped with excitement, and then the excitement turned into disappointment. His hair was darker and longer than Gavril’s. This had to be Gavril’s brother accompanied by his pack of werewolves. His Nike shoes were smoking, as if they had been on fire and then extinguished under the muddy rain. I smiled sadly.

  “They were brand new,” he complained grudgingly, as I watched his Nike soles appear rather melted. I arched my eyebrow. Last time I had seen Gavril’s brothers, Francis had closed the door on their muzzles. I guess that had been the last time Gavril had seen them too. Poor Gavril. I wondered if he had managed to escape.

  “We followed your Lamia scent,” he added priggishly, as if I was asking for an explanation after the insult.

  Queen Lamia was a Strzyga mass children butcher, according to Strzyga history. That made me grin because I knew for a fact that my scent was that of jasmine and vanilla, nothing evil and nothing rotting. Then I remembered this was Gavril’s older brother, and he could protect the girls away from this place.

  “Good, then you can help the girls that are inside the chapel get away from this place. They need your protection,” I said.

  He shook his head and snorted his frustration. “What do you think we have been trying to do for the past weeks?” he said. Weeks? Holy crap.

  “Those are wolves,” Tiffany said from behind. Her eyes were on Gavril’s brother. She combed her hair with her hands, obviously feeling self-conscious of her appearance.

  “No, they are not exactly wolves. They are werewolves,” I corrected her.

  She gasped horrified. “Are you a werewolf?” she asked me, stepping away from me as if I was no different than those evil ghouls I had saved her from.

  At which, Gavril’s brother frowned. “Nice to meet you, too, princess.” He winked at Tiffany. “Should we tell her what you are?” His voice was stingy and sulking.

  I had no idea why he didn’t like me, but I sure wasn’t going to spend valuable time discussing our differences.

  “Look, the wrong people have Gavril, a… friend of mine, and this entire place. We need to rescue them also. So don’t waste their time,” I told him the truth.

  He growled admonishingly. He was upset, making Tiffany step farther away from us.

  “It’s all your fault,” he growled at me.

  I sighed and nodded. He was right. It was all my fault. But we didn’t have the luxury of time to discuss that either.

  “We warned him that you would be the end of him, but he wouldn’t listen.” His voice was full of anger and frustration.

  I couldn’t let him use these precious moments to save Gavril, even when this was his brother. Crap.

  “So lead, follow, or get out of my way, but do not waste your brother’s time. Who is my brother too,” I reminded him. The priority here was Gavril and not me.

  “Fine, but I will make sure you don’t make it out of here in one piece after,” he threatened. The wolves gnarled and snarled at me. Great. I was losing the popularity contest, again.

  “More monsters approaching,” Tiffany warned us, pointing at six figures coming from the far end of the convent.

  Gavril’s brother growled something that sounded like an expletive under his breath. I didn’t know if he was uncomfortable with the more “monsters” tag Tiffany had given us or because of the new company approaching.

  However, Tiffany was right. They were scary and not human, at least not anymore. They had a bright white complexion and looked dull-witted and ready for warmongering with those bald-headed tattoos openly glowing green in the dark. It was the first time I had the full opportunity to see the symbols printed all over their faces and heads. They were similar to the markings of the “birthmark” on Demyan’s back. I made a mental note of that for later, if there was a later.

  Two of them floated amidst the rain, and four more marched behind them with glowing, snakelike, emerald-green eyes that darted around with an emotionless and rapacious gaze that could turn anyone to stone. Crap.

  “Take a number,” I declared at Gavril’s brothers, pulling my swords out.

  Right now, I wasn’t feeling very well. In fact, I felt shaky, and all I could do was blame it on them or that I hadn’t fully healed after Nicholas’s attack. Although, I felt stronger as time had gone by since I left Demyan’s prison tower.

  “Wh-what are they?” Tricia asked behind me, making me fully aware that the girls shouldn’t be there.

  “Primordials,” I muttered as I watched their dark red cloaks getting closer. Francis had said two of them had been supernatural at the palace, probably just like these. Not even a bad horror movie nor a psycho-biddy thriller could ever have categorized these warlocks as the insane or the mentally instable monks I had seen in France. No, they were much more than that now. They were malignant, evil, supernatural. Ash. I could see this was his work. Crap.

  “Warlocks,” Gavril’s brother corrected us as we witnessed the warlocks moving fast toward us.

  “You should take the girls away. This is my battle,” I told him. I was afraid for him and the other wolves. They didn’t know how dangerous those primordials—warlocks were.

  However, seven wolves raised their black crest hackles simultaneously and flattened their ears at the sign of threat, crouching with muscles tensed, and holding tails rigid. Their teeth bared fierce, waiting for the right moment to attack. Immediately, they divided, forming a first wall of defense.

  “Get inside,” I ordered Tiffany and Tricia, who held large brass candle holders in their hands.

  However, they were hard of hearing or couldn’t fully understand the danger. Unexpectedly, their naïve and guiless courage touched me deeper than I could have ever thought. They wanted to fight evil by my side. Sister Magdalene, who obviously felt better, had ventured closer to the chapel doors, crossed her heart, and held her crucifix high and began praying for something. At this point I wasn’t exactly paying any attention to her. Our sight was on the warlocks.

  “You two, get inside,” Gavril’s brother told the girls who held the brass candle holders.

  “No, I am tired of this. I will fight them,” Tiffany said, contradicting him.

  He shook his head but accepted the outcome with some respect for their courage.

  Then we fight, he said inside my head, morphing his body into a half human and half wolf. His hands had sharp claws, and his mouth had formed like a snout with big, long t
eeth. Hair had grown all over his face. I had seen Gavril do that preternatural trick before. It was not for the faint of heart. I turned to Sister Magdalene who had suddenly blanched. I couldn’t blame her; my knees felt weaker. I swallowed hard.

  “You better keep an eye on the rest of the girls inside, Sister,” I ordered her. Her eyes were unwilling to understand what was happening, so she crossed her heart and resigned to leave us. Her trembling hand closed the doors behind me. I couldn’t blame her. I struggled to take my plastic poncho off and pulled a second one, neatly folded into a small thin square, out of my pocket and handed them to the girls who must have been cold and wet to the core. I wasn’t going to need them, besides the poncho was more of a liability with the katanas. I should have foreseen this. I sighed.

  Gavril’s brother, who was the only werewolf in his human form, snarled once, low and with intent, flashing his pearlies, ready to take any warlocks’ head off, but that didn’t deter the approaching warlocks. Unfortunately, their gleeful sight was on me. Crap. I felt even more faint.

  Gavril’s brother and I worked as a second line of defense, holding down the fort along with Tricia and Tiffany in front of the chapel. However, I was concerned about Tiffany and Tricia being able to defend themselves. God, why they wouldn’t listen?

  I inhaled and prepared myself for battle. I was pissed off that I hadn’t had the chance to free Gavril or the queen before being spotted. I prayed they were safe. If the tough got rough, at least I now had something to bargain with. The medallion tingled over my chest, reassuring me of its existence. At the same time, I was left almost breathless.

  “Ten o’clock,” I said. The first of the warlocks jumped at one of the wolves. He had black claws and teeth like a shark. What in the world had happened to them?

  They lost their souls, Gavril’s brother said, answering my unspoken question. Howls that were mostly cries of war followed as the rest of the werewolves went into battle, breaking into a nasty ball of muddy fur and red robes. I prayed the warlocks had limited magic. I couldn’t bear thinking the weres could be harmed.

  At least tell me your name if you are going to barge into my head. I had discovered with Gavril werewolves had the advantage to listen and barge in Strzyga minds, which made them phenomenal adversaries.

  Why? You want to invite me for tea, little princess? He mocked, as we readied for battle.

  Fine, I’ll call you Drooling Goofy, or do you prefer Benjie? So cute—

  Raphael, he said, cutting my name-calling short. Right. I remembered him as the largest wolf in the pack, and he really, really wasn’t fond of me. At least we were on a first-name basis for now.

  “You two hold the fort,” I commanded Tricia and Tiffany, who had finished slipping on the plastic ponchos.

  They nodded back, raising their candle holders.

  I stepped into the rain, holding my katanas high and ready as Francis had taught me through the art of Kenjutsu. I was going to use my body and footwork to get close enough to the warlocks. Would they combust like the ghouls, or was I going to kill a human being possessed by something demonic? A chill ran head to toe. I didn’t want to kill any human being. Raphael said they had no souls anymore. Could I trust that?

  Well, there was just one way of knowing. One of the levitating warlocks made it through the first line of battle. I turned my grin to Raphael and ran toward the warlock with a cry of battle. Raphael stood there for a long second, watching me with astonished surprise and then followed me after.

  The warlock stopped at my response, barely an inch from touching the muddy grounds. He launched a powerful dark booming wave of something I had never seen before. The only way I could described it was as an electromagnetic wave. It collided with me as I was running for him, and the golden arrow shield once again had protected me from it. This was good.

  I still had momentum and used it to slide on my knees across the mud as I swung the swords, aiming at his legs. The warlock moved to the side, grinning maliciously at me. I knew I had completely missed him, and he’d been fast enough to move away. However, he was distracted by my unexpected move.

  Raphael took advantage of the warlock’s temporary distraction and launched straight at him. I prepared my stance and circled my steps to make sure I was always facing the warlock. Raphael ripped an entire arm off, black blood oozing from the lethal wound.

  The arm fell next to me with a splash of muddy blood. I crouched, carefully paying attention to the surrounding battle. The werewolves had the warlocks busy. I didn’t want to commit the same mistake the warlock had. I touched the pallid hand. Eeew, it felt squishy cold. Suddenly, I watched the entire arm and hand turn crusty black with a red-orange burning center until it all finally turned to ashes in seconds. Good.

  My gaze locked back onto him and settled with a brief understanding of the warlocks. He was no match for me. I grinned. He seemed to mind with a growling piercing scream but not enough to make him retreat. The crazy ex-primordial stood cursing oaths at us, until Raphael took his tattooed head off in one blow. The first of the warlocks had lost his battle. The powerful and almost invisible blasts had the werewolves pushing back and forth. At times I thought one or two of them had been severely hurt, but moments later, they shook their heads and tails and went back into battle.

  Despite the booming, powerful waves that the warlocks created, one more marching warlock had been decimated to pieces by the werewolves, leaving four warlocks in the battle. One was capable of breaking the laws of gravity and levitated, gratefully not too far from the ground.

  At the same time, I was grateful that the warlock-primordials were not using guns. I questioned the reason for that. It was clear then that their target was getting to me—without guns. They wanted me alive then. I also wondered how just these two in this bunch had this gravity-defying power.

  Warlocks gain powers by killing others. In this case, I suspect they killed their own kind but not that many since their powers are very limited, Raphael said as he waited, just like me, for another warlock to disengage from the werewolves just like his predecessor had. Meanwhile, the other marching warlocks continue the battle. Our advantage was numbers, so far.

  A loud, ear-piercing and shrill cackle took our attention away from the warlocks. It took the warlocks’ attention too. Scratch the numbers advantage now. Crap. My blood curdled and congealed at the sound. It was hard to recognize the figure in a grimy nun habit as it came out of nowhere.

  Chapter 53

  I was face to face with Sister Agatha—or something that looked like a horrible version of her. She wasn’t wearing a neat hair piece. Her hair was gray, disarrayed, and balding in large patches. There was visible scabbing and flesh decaying on her skull. Her eyes were also different. She had bulbous eyes, nails like a sabretooth tiger’s, decaying teeth glinting over rubbery pale gums, and her complexion was mottled gray.

  “And that is a Hag.” Raphael pointed.

  How? I would have lived happily ever after if I didn’t have to see her ever again, and yet I pitied her. And perhaps for the first time, I felt something I had never felt for her, specifically compassion.

  Sister Agatha was flying, higher up than warlock one or two. For such an old woman, she moved with surprising stealth, leaving behind a trail of large dandruff-like flakes and a terrible road-kill stench. Who turned her so heinous? Ash.

  Raphael and I exchanged glances, both of us realizing she was capable of snatching anyone without touching consecrated ground. The girls were in direct danger. Great. We had to take the battle away from them.

  “Welcome back, my dearest Ailie.”

  I had to give her the medal for bluntness. Did I have my name printed on my forehead?

  Tiffany and Tricia turned to me with their jaws dropped for a moment, realizing who I was underneath the black mask. Great. Now everyone knew who I was under the ski mask. I shrugged, my shoulders not losing sight of my contender. God, she was so disgusting and scary now.

  The battle moved closer to
our side, closer to the chapel. The one remaining levitating warlock suddenly evaded the werewolves unscathed. He had me in sight and probably had seen how we had vanquished his brother, which wasn’t an advantage to us. The battle had reached a difficult encompassment. Simultaneously, Sister Agatha made pointless rounds, perhaps confusing or distracting us. We had to divide ourselves in order to protect the girls. Crap.

  You got to protect the girls up there. Raphael gestured his head toward the chapel. He was right.

  I nodded back, retreating my steps into the chapel’s entrance where the girls stood.

  “Oh, my dearest Ailie, you don’t need to hear it or see it to know you are made for evil, my dear. Your destiny is marked no matter what you think.” Her words resonated a deep fear I had for so long. Suddenly, my swords felt heavier and I felt slower. The hag cackled at my hesitation with my swords.

  “I see an unfortunate record already precedes you,” Raphael said, dancing circles with the warlock. Ugh. I rolled my eyes back at him. He was so infuriating.

  “Can you see the corruption, all around you, twisting everything it touches? It’s here because of you and for you.” She cackled more, hovering from one side to another really fast. She was making me feel dizzy, even nauseated. Adrenaline kept me moving, but the truth was I was sick with dread from her scary words. Ash had turned everything at St. Mary’s into ill-wretched despair and ugliness. The reality of the convent was evidenced by her words.

  There was an unavoidable truth. Evil was always following me, destroying everything and everyone I cared for. Everyone at St. Mary’s was in danger because of me. I felt a tear sliding treacherously underneath the mask, but I held my swords in position, even when I felt weak in my knees and everywhere. I had to accept that I wasn’t feeling well.

  “Can’t you feel the evil of the world all around you? It calls for you, my sweet. It wants you back,” she said. No, it wasn’t calling me, not anymore, and I definitely wasn’t going back… But it had in the past. Doubt crept up on me. Crap.