by Tara Brown
Her eyes glisten, “It is. End of days starts now. You must kill the antichrist as he rises up, before he succeeds in taking the throne. You must kill him and then the world will reset, and there will be peace.”
I sigh. “End of days starts now? What about the shit show out there already?”
She cocks an eyebrow, “No cussing. It pollutes your aura.”
“Seriously though, end of days starts now? How am I even going to know this antichrist?”
She laughs, “He will be the false prophet who promises to save the world.”
I look down at my feet, my shoes are almost worn through, my pants are torn and filthy, and my hands are covered in cuts and bloodstains. “I don’t think I have any more fight left in me.”
“Then this is the time you must count on God.”
I give her a sideways look, “You always said that religious people were nuts.”
She laughs, “They are. The people who look to statues and buildings to find God are nuts. Where is God in a piece of wood or a mortal man’s voice? God is a personal experience for all. God is in your heart. No one can tell you how to love him or where to find him. He is there for you and each person who believes in him, gets the same thing. The gift of light.”
I smile, “It was so simple. We all complicated it.”
She laughs, “We all did. Fitz was watching over you. He laughed aloud when he realized the power was belief. No one could tell you that. No one could teach you that. You had to look to the heavens and see it for yourself. You‘re the hand of God, Nene. Now go and do his bidding.”
I wake, gasping for air.
Wyatt stares at me from the corner of the room. He looks evil. If I hadn’t murdered my father, I would assume Wyatt has become him again.
My chest is heaving and my jaw is trembling.
He looks at me with disdain pasted across his face, “Really? You sneak off when I’m in the shower?”
I don’t know what to say. I wonder if he has heard anything. I bite my lip as he rants, “You sneak off with Basarab, you don’t let me come and protect you, and then in the middle of the night, a stabbing pain tries to kill me as you rip my heart out?”
I plead, “It wasn’t what you think.”
“What do I think?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know. I’m so sorry about your mom and Sarah.”
His face drops, “That’s the news he refused to tell me?”
I close my eyes, “He never told you?”
When I open them, he is gone. I jump up and run down the hall. He has Constantine against the wall in the study when I get there.
“You let her die?”
Constantine looks at me, “Care to explain or shall I?”
I walk to Wyatt, touching his arm with my hand. “I’ll explain.” He shoves Constantine once more before releasing him and backing away.
He looks at me with hatred in his eyes, “You killed her, didn’t you?”
I shake my head, “It was Sarah.”
“BULLSHIT!”
I plead, “It was. She was possessed by Lucifer. We didn’t know. She had murdered your mother on the riverbank while we waited at the jet. We thought we were at the right spot for the horsemen, but we were wrong. We were off and Sarah knew it. She was there to distract us while the horsemen came for the guy Lucifer sent there to gather the power for him. I think he wanted the guy to take the power of the horsemen, and then he would take it from the guy.”
Constantine gives me a look, “That man was one of the sons of Dracula. He was my cousin.”
I scowl, “Okay, well that’s weird. Anyway, Sarah killed your mom and we didn’t even know. By the time we figured it out, your mom was dead. We killed Sarah, forcing Lucifer from her body.”
Wyatt looks back and forth between us. His nostrils are flared. “Why did you pull my dagger from your heart?”
I press my lips together as Constantine speaks softly, “You never needed it.”
He looks down and leaves the study. Wyatt looks at me, “What is that supposed to mean?”
I don’t know why, but I am terrified to tell him, “You know how you never aged for a long time, and you thought it was because you were a Van Helsing?”
He nods.
“It was because I was dead. Your aging slowed when I died and picked up again when I was born.”
“What does that mean?”
I step towards him, “We knew each other once, a long time ago. You were a child but we knew. We knew one day we would be together. Like it was meant to be.”
He scowls, “I don’t remember you.”
“But it happened. They took it from us, your mother and Constantine. Even the me from before doesn’t remember it. They took it away.”
He sits in the chair, “They stole our memories? Why would they do that? That doesn’t even make sense.”
I shake my head, “Constantine did it because he wanted me to love him and not you. I have no idea why your mother did it. She’s dead now so that’s not very helpful.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “I bet Fitz knows, but wait. You ruined the picture so the only way in is that painting in that chick’s house in Boston. The locked house.”
I sigh, “We can go there.”
He shakes his head, “I’m tired of traveling back and forth. I’m tired of all the nixie travel and flying, and all the bullshit. This is exhausting. Loving you is exhausting and everyone dies because of you in some small way. Loving you is like slowly being tortured.” He holds his hand over his chest and closes his eyes. He puts his hand under his shirt and pulls the sword from his chest. Blinding pain is there instantly. It never felt that way when I pulled Constantine’s from his chest. Wyatt’s is like ten seconds of death and then nothing. He drops the sword to the floor and gets up, leaving me alone in the room with the blade.
He doesn’t want to love me. I finally choose, and he doesn’t want to love me. I look at the window and run at it. I break the glass and jump as my wings shoot from my back. I fly to the spot where the gates sit open still. I land and walk into the garden. A deer passes by me. I walk to the village but it is silent.
There is no one there, no one has lived. How is that possible? In the ten minutes he left me in the garden, how did he kill them all? How did he hurt everyone? I never heard a sound, not a single scream. I enter the palace through the front doors and walk to the throne room. The daisies are still littering the halls and stairs.
I walk to the throne, running my hands over it. The pure light of the crystal is stunning. It reflects the light filtering into the room. I sit down, resting my weary legs.
“You sit at the throne of the fae?”
I look up to the see the white-eyed man and jump up, “Sorry. I meant no disrespect.”
He laughs, “Sit, it is your right. You have conquered the land.”
I shake my head, “What?”
“You killed the queen. These were all your subjects.” He holds his hand out at the flowers scattered about the floor.
“I never meant to kill her. I don’t know what came over me.”
His white eyes glisten in the light of the room, “You wanted to save your mother and yourself. You came to free the fae of the evil inside of Lillith. It had corrupted the queen. Lillith had her convinced she could take back the Earth. Lillith brought you here to kill her.”
“Why do the fae hate God and humans?”
He smiles, “If you can find that answer, you can solve all the problems in all the world. Why do any group of people dislike any other group?”
“Beliefs?”
He nods, “You are smarter than you look.”
“Who are you?”
He laughs, “Who am I? Does it matter? I asked you here to help me and you brought death to all my people. I am a fool.”
I shake my head, “I never knew he was my father.”
“You chose not to listen to your heart, and as a result, all of these people died.”
I wince, “What can
I do?”
He shrugs, “What can you do?”
I feel like I am at the tea party in Alice in Wonderland. I sit back on the throne, “I will do anything I can to fix them.”
He smiles, “Then I suggest you call the witches.”
I nod.
He looks around, “Good luck, Rayne.” He turns and walks away and slowly becomes a huge white stag. His hooves click on the stone floor as he walks away from me.
I get up and walk to the window, and jump. I fly back to the castle. I use the front door but it doesn’t matter. Constantine gives me a hateful look from the book he is reading, “Windows are not easy to come by now, Rayne. The factories are all gone.”
I can’t fight the smile. Seeing him angry is funny. I’m not even sure why that is.
Stella gives me a hard stare, “Where were you?”
“The fae castle. I have to get the witches and ask them to bring back the fae.”
Stella gives her brother a look. He shakes his head, “That seems like a bad idea. Why not leave them where they are? They can’t hurt anything or anyone there.”
“They are a pile of flowers. I won’t leave them that way. The white-eyed man who turned into the white stag asked me to do it. I’m doing it. So far, he’s the only person who has just been honest with me from the get go, besides Mona.”
Constantine’s eye twitches, “Your cheap shots are still more venomous than a snake bite.”
Stella pauses, “Did you talk to the man who turned into the white stag?”
I nod.
Her jaw drops and Michelle’s head snaps around to me, “Oh snap. Seriously? The white-stag guy talked to you?”
I frown, “Yeah? He’s been talking to me since I arrived in the garden. Why?”
Michelle looks giddy. She gives Stella a look, “That means you are the true leader of the world, and you will birth the child who will save us. You’re like modern-day Mary.” Constantine coughs and Michelle laughs, “Minus the whole virgin thingy, clearly.”
I cock an eyebrow, “What?”
Stella nods, “The white stag will show himself to the woman who will save the world. She will give birth to the child who will unite the masses.”
Michelle nods, “That’s like Jesus, dude.”
I sigh, “Can we focus on the important stuff like saving the fae and killing the antichrist? I wanna sleep for real one day. I wanna sleep when I’m tired, not just when the dead take me. I have a feeling that killing the antichrist means I get to chose my form and sleep regularly.”
Constantine sighs, “So back to Boston then?”
I glare, “No witches in London?”
He laughs, “No. Remember the European witch trials? We ran them out. They fled for the New World.”
“Great. Just great.” I stomp down the hall to Mona’s room. She is wrapped in blankets and Gill is sleeping on the bed next to her.
She smiles, and I can see her period must have ended. Her virginity is gone. She is beaming and glowing. She smiles, “Hi.” She puts her hands on her face, “Is it that obvious?”
I laugh, “Yeah.”
She looks down, “He is so amazing.”
“He probably would say the same thing about you. Anyway, the reason I came here is I am going to ask the witches to bring back his people. Did the witches who brought him back do anything special?”
She nods, “Yeah, they were dressed all fancy, like old Victorian clothes. They did a circle of thirteen, and I couldn’t see in the circle, but when they were done, he and Constantine were back.”
“Earth witches, interesting.”
She shrugs, “I guess. So you think that’s a good idea? Bringing them all back?”
“Yeah. My dad killed them all. I owe them.”
She gives me a look, “You want me to come?”
I want to nod. I want to ask her to come, but I don’t. She is in love and married, and she deserves happiness. She is the last living thing I love that could die. I would keep her locked away in a tower if I could. “That’s okay. It won’t be fun. Cold trip across the puddle with the nixie.”
She wrinkles her nose at me, “Maybe shower first. You look nasty homeless.”
I laugh, “Okay.”
She looks around, “So Maria says there is a place under the stables where Constantine and Stella have been making vampires.”
I scowl, “Why would she tell you that?”
She smiles and nods at sleeping beauty. Gill is stunning, there is no doubt. “She has a huge crush on someone. Anyway, they’re making a LOT of vampires. It’s like an army. It’s why me and Michelle aren’t allowed outside.”
I sigh, “I’m putting it on the back burner, but we have to deal with that when I get back from saving the fae.”
“Be safe and hurry.” She blows me a kiss and I nod. I turn and walk to my room. I look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t know that girl at all anymore. She is filthy and exhausted and thin, rail thin. She is tired and weak. She is not me. She is the one who has to save everything and everyone, and she is going to fail. I can see it in her grey eyes.
I pull my shirt off, shocked by the tattoo that has appeared on my right breast, over my heart.
I look down at it. It’s a single heart with an arrow’s head inside of it. The lines of the heart are red and the arrowhead is green.
“The mark of the warrior.”
I look up, instantly covering my breasts.
Wyatt smirks, “Pretty sure you don’t need to cover them.”
I scowl, “I’m sorry she died, but it wasn’t my fault. I’m done taking the blame for him. I never made him and I never knew him, not that well. I will take the responsibility for the people I have killed. I know there are many, but I didn’t kill your mother or Sarah.”
He nods, “I know. I’m sorry for what I said.”
He pulls his shirt off too. I stare at the new tattoo on his chest, “What’s that?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know.”
It is a white feather over his heart.
I reach for it, running my fingers down it, “Who is marking us?”
He tilts my chin, “I think we are.” His eyes roam my filthy face, “Let’s take a shower. It’s your turn to get soapy.”
I smile, “Okay.” I can’t fight the empathetic look on my face, “I am sorry for your losses.”
He shakes his head, “They’ve been the same as your losses. That’s what we do, we lose. We lose people and love and faith.”
I pull him into the huge walk-in shower, “No, we don’t. We can’t lose people we can always remember. You can’t take a memory or a feeling away. We can’t lose faith, because that is what is keeping us alive. We can’t lose love, because once you have it, it’s there for life. It can change shape but it’s always there.”
I turn on the water and stand under it.
He passes me the soap, “You are a mess.”
I nod at him, “Let me see your back.”
He turns and I gag. His skin has healed but the scars spell something. I drop the soap.
He looks back, “What?”
I reach for it, tracing the letters, “R-A-Y-N-E.”
“What?”
“Your scars spell my name.”
He looks at me, “Seriously?”
I nod.
“Wow, he’s a sick bastard.” He smiles at me, “At least it doesn’t say anything else.”
I shake my head, “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
He turns, “It will fade. It’s just taking longer, because he put his blood on the whip before he hit me with it. Lucifer’s blood was toxic.”
“You remember?”
He nods, “I do. He tortured me in a cell and gave me to the priest. Said I had the devil in me and needed to be held on hollowed ground. The devil would die inside of my body, never able to leave the safety of my skin and touch the hollowed ground with his own feet. The priests took me through a tunnel; it was underground. I was bleeding everywhere. They tied
me up and left me there to die.”
I wrap my soapy arms around him, “I am so sorry.”
He shakes his head, “Baby, it’s not your fault.” He looks down on me, I can see the intensity in his eyes. I can taste his desire in the air.
Something happens, a switch is hit or turned. But something changes there in the water and the steam, and maybe it’s the realization that we have made it part of the way and are both still standing. I am grateful for him. Even with the aches and pains of my own body, I find strength enough to want him.
His face lowers to mine, hovering above me so close that I can see it—his want and desire and love. He moves the last inch, delicately brushing his wet lips against mine. The warmth of his tongue moving in my parted lips makes me moan into him. The speed of the kiss doesn’t pick up; it stays soft like he is paying homage to me. He drops to his knees, kissing my chest and pulling me into his lap. I wrap around him, as his hands roam my back, massaging with the hot water.
“I want you, Rayne.”
I kiss his neck and his cheek, bushing my face against the stubble on his. It scratches and tickles, making me smile. I love the things I can feel. I don’t have all the love, heartbreak, joy, and all the pain, because I share them five ways. But I have all of his face rubbing against mine. I have all of his hands brushing my body. I have all of the hot water mixing with our kiss.
And it is enough. I moan, closing my eyes and tilting my head back as my body arches into his massaging hands.
When I look at him again, I can feel the desire in my stare. I run my hands down his soaked, strong body. I touch each muscle and tattoo. I nod, slowly as my body grinds against his, “I want you too.”
The water blurred the lines of our bodies as we made love. I made love. For the first time in my human life, I felt my love grow inside of me with the waves of emotion and pleasure.
It becomes more than enough.
I can feel the separation of my love from theirs. I think, in some way, I can feel them love him too, through me.
As my hand slides down the shower stall, desperate to cling to the tiles, to cling to anything that isn’t moving in the dizzying spin I am in with him, I can feel his love for me.
When it’s over, I don’t want it to be, and yet, all I want is to have him hold me so tightly it will feel like we are one. We stand under the shower, I think both in shock. I know I am.
