by J. Stone
It was at this point, that Wynonna recalled it all to be a dream. She remembered that this was Petronila’s doing, and she knew exactly what happened to her family. All she wanted to do was wake up, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t manage it. Unable to escape the dream, Wynonna thought to at least escape that house, filled with her family’s blood. She ran to the door, only for it to slam closed of its own volition, trapping her within. The shutters to the windows followed suit. The back door. The side door. Wynonna had nowhere to go.
Turning around, the vespari found she was no longer alone. Her family was there, but they were all changed. They were dead and transformed into hideous ghouls. They still wore the clothes they had on when the revenant had murdered them. Her mother’s dress had an enormous red stain in the abdomen. Her father had a hole in his throat, the blood dripping down over his shirt. Her three brothers all shared similar wounds. Jeremiah, the youngest, looked just as she’d seen him briefly back in the desert, but before now she’d never caught sight of her elder two brothers, Casper and Roscoe. She also saw Roscoe’s wife, Marcella, shambling alongside her new husband. Her family’s faces were gaunt, pale, and rotting. Their eyes were dead, void of all emotion. They each reached toward Wynonna, shambling forward.
The vespari backed up until she ran into the closed door. Her family continued after her. Wynonna told herself it was a dream. She told herself that they couldn’t hurt her. She was wrong.
Petronila made her feel everything. She felt her family’s fingernails dig into her skin. She felt their teeth chomp down and tear her flesh. They pulled her apart, piece by piece, and the vile soul eater made her feel it all. She thought it would never end, but then a light flashed in her eyes, ending it all.
***
Wynonna woke in that tavern with the sunlight coming in through a window, reflecting off the glass at such an angle that it shone right into her eyes. Covered in sweat and still shaking from the soul eater’s nightmare, the vespari pushed the covers off and stood. Refusing to acknowledge the pain Petronila had inflicted on her, Wynonna chose to ignore the experience. She put on her clothes, her gun belt, duster, and hat. She then walked over to the nightstand and grabbed Rohan’s revolver and his medallion. Wynonna tucked the medallion into a duster pocket and slipped his gun under her belt.
Having gathered everything she needed, the vespari left the room, still refusing to acknowledge the nightmares of her slumber, and made her way down the hall and back down to the tavern level of the building. Things seemed much more subdued in the bar area in the early morning than they had been during the evening, but she still found herself wishing she had some silver to pay for a drink. After what Petronila had put her through, it might’ve made matters a bit easier. Just as broke as she’d been when she got there though, Wynonna had no choice but to turn and leave the Blue Brick Tavern, heading back to the streets of Alexandria.
Walking once more toward the vespari tower, Wynonna’s stomach growled at her. She hadn’t had a proper meal in days. At least when she was in the desert, she could find her own food. Here, in the city, her only choices were to pay for a meal or steal something. Maybe she could get something at the tower though. She knew they didn’t think of her as a real vespari, but she hoped that her dealing with the oathbreaker (or at least lying about it) would buy her something with them.
Arriving at the Black Tea Tower at about noon, Wynonna made her way up the steps and opened the large doors, letting herself in. Smiling to herself, the vespari decided to first stop off and see if Autumn was around. She’d rather enjoyed their previous conversation, and she wanted to see if she could make any further progress with her. Unfortunately, Wynonna opened the door only to find that the quartermaster wasn’t in.
Frowning, she turned back and decided to see if Spencer was in the library. She expected he would like to know about Rohan, even if it wasn’t the complete truth. Opening the library door, Wynonna found it to be empty as well. Though she thought it strange that she’d seen no one yet, she shrugged it off and decided to simply head up the stairs to find the elders.
Taking the steps slowly, Wynonna soon arrived at the third floor where the elders’ chamber was. She found the door closed, so she walked up to it and rapped her knuckles against it. Waiting for a response, she turned around and examined the hall. She remembered Rohan’s story about how he’d fired upon the illusionary monstrosity and decided to investigate the tale. Rubbing her fingers along the stonework outside the chamber, Wynonna found several bullet holes. At least part of what he’d told her had been true, it seemed. She hoped he’d been entirely honest with her. A lot was riding on it.
Wynonna returned to the door, but it remained shut and with no obvious sound of movement beyond it. She reached for the knob and twisted it, but the elders had locked it. Not too surprising. Rohan had mentioned the elders kept it locked when they weren’t in. Not knowing what to do next, she stopped to think. She knew that the vespari had private chambers on the fourth floor, but she didn’t know what they kept on the second. Deciding it to be as good a place as any to investigate, Wynonna returned to the stairs and took them back down to the second level of the tower.
Arriving there and heading down a hall, Wynonna could hear voices, and so she moved toward them. Before she arrived at the source of this noise, however, one of the vespari elders exited a room and walked toward her. Unfortunately, it was the one she would’ve wanted to see the least, Albert Bowater. Seeing her, he sighed and scowled at her.
“What are you doing back here?” he asked.
“Nice to see you too,” she said with an expressionless face.
“Mm,” he muttered, continuing to stare at her with that same scowl.
“It’s done,” Wynonna told him. “Rohan is dead.”
Bowater glared at her, incredulity written all over him. “Is that right?”
She folded her arms at her chest. “It is. You going to assemble the elders or something?”
“Are you trying to tell me what to do, girl?”
“That was quite obviously a question, not an order.”
Bowater took a step forward and pressed his finger into Wynonna’s chest. “I don’t like you. You’re emotional, brash, arrogant, and… and…”
“A woman?”
He nodded with a self-satisfied grin. “Yes. Women are weak. There is no place for them within the Vespari Brotherhood.”
“And what have you done? All I’ve seen you do is hide in your tower. You seem weaker than I could ever be.”
“How dare you?” Bowater asked, raising his hand in a clear preparation for slapping her.
The elder’s hand was caught, however, as another appeared. Nicolae grabbed Bowater’s arm at the wrist and stopped the attack altogether.
“What do you think you’re doing, Albert?” Nicolae asked. “We do not attack fellow vespari.”
Bowater wrenched his wrist free in a quick tug. “This girl is no vespari,” he spat. “She will never be a vespari.”
“That is still for us all to decide,” Nicolae told him. Turning to Wynonna, he asked, “The oathbreaker, have you taken care of it?”
She nodded. “I have.”
“I see. Then, we must reconvene to discuss it. I shall--”
Wynonna’s stomach growled so loudly that the elder stopped midsentence and looked down at her gut.
Nicolae smiled and looked back up at her. “But, it seems you are hungry.” He pointed down the hall to an open door. “We have a mess hall through there. You should get something to eat.”
“What?” Bowater asked. “She cannot eat with us. She is not a--”
“Silence, Albert,” Nicolae told him. “I am sponsoring her. It is my right to see that she is properly fed.” To Wynonna, “I will find Ambrose. When you have had your fill, report to our chamber. We will discuss the oathbreaker further there.”
“Alright,” she said with a nod. “Thank you, Nicolae.” She then looked at Bowater and gave him a glare.
; He mirrored her expression, but Wynonna didn’t care to be around him any longer than she had to and turned for the mess hall that the considerably more pleasant elder had mentioned. Walking down the hall, she was about to enter when Autumn suddenly came out, nearly rolling over Wynonna’s toes.
“Oh!” Autumn exclaimed, clutching her chest and coming to a stop. “Wynonna, I’m so sorry!”
The vespari shook her head. “It’s fine. No harm done.” She grinned. “You look lovely today.”
Autumn smiled, averting her eyes and continued forward, rolling out of the way of the door. Ignoring her comment, the quartermaster asked, “So, your first challenge went well, I take it?”
She nodded and leaned sideways into the adjacent wall. “It did. Back for more.”
“I was a little worried about you,” the quartermaster said, folding her hands in her lap and looking down.
“That’s sweet of you,” Wynonna said with a smile. “But why would you worry about me?”
Autumn looked up at her and then immediately back down. “I just… I didn’t know what sort of challenge they would give you.”
“I’m okay.”
Autumn looked up. “I’m glad.”
Wynonna looked down the hall of the tower. “How did you get up here anyway? Those stairs seem a tad tricky for wheels.”
“Oh, yeah,” Autumn said with a big grin. “There’s an old shaft that runs through the whole tower. I set up a pulley system, so I could get around.”
Wynonna smiled at the quartermaster. “You’re so damn amazing.”
Autumn’s face flushed with red instantly, as she smiled and broke eye contact with the vespari.
“There’s that blush again,” Wynonna commented.
“I… I… I should… get back to work,” she replied, still avoiding eye contact.
“Alright,” Wynonna said. “Is it okay if I stop in later?”
Autumn finally looked up. “Did you need me to build something for you?”
The vespari shrugged. “I’m sure I can make up some excuse, but it will be quite flimsy.”
“Oh, yes. Well, if you want to come by, you are welcome. I will be happy to build something for you, if that is what you need, and if you wanted to come by for other reasons… well…I think I would like that too.”
Wynonna smiled. “I’ll see you later, Autumn.”
She nodded. “Yes. Okay. Goodbye, Wynonna.”
The quartermaster gripped her chair’s wheels and pushed them forward, rolling herself down the hall away from Wynonna. The vespari, meanwhile, pushed herself off the wall and entered the mess hall to see about getting some lunch.
Several tables lined the large room, where a handful of vespari sat. Some picked at a meal in front of them, a pair played cards, and a few others simply conversed in low voices. When Wynonna stepped inside the hall, everything came to a sudden halt, as each of them turned to inspect her. She never felt so naked and exposed, and that generally wasn’t a problem for her, but there was something in their eyes that made her uncomfortable.
Unsure how to react, she shifted on the spot for a moment before looking around to find where the food was. Wynonna finally found it on the opposite side of the room, so she took a deep breath and then started forward through the room, the eyes following her every step. She squeezed both hands into fists and tried to ignore them, but they persisted.
Wynonna got to the other side of the room, where a short table had a series of stacked metal bowls, a set of spoons, and a soup heavy on the broth. Paying the food itself almost no attention, she grabbed a bowl and spoon. Dipping the bowl into the soup, Wynonna filled it up and then wiped off the side with her finger. Licking the excess soup off her finger, she turned around only to find a familiar but entirely unwelcome sight behind her in Ernest Hildebrand.
“That’s vespari food,” he told her, as two other unfamiliar vespari walked up and stood on either side of him. They looked just as bigoted and unwelcoming as he did.
“That’s a keen eye you have there, Ernest,” she replied, dipping the spoon into the soup and slurping it up.
“It’s Hildebrand, and you’re not one of us,” he told her, slapping the bowl out of her hand and knocking it to the ground with a loud clang.
Wynonna turned her head to watch the bowl, flipped upside down, spin on its rim in a circle, rattling against the stone floor with each rotation. When it finally came to a stop, she looked up, noticing that everyone in that mess hall focused on this confrontation between her and Ernest. She then glared directly at him, clenching her fist around the spoon she still held.
She couldn’t think of a witty response. She didn’t really want to. Actions, she’d found, spoke so much louder. So, instead, Wynonna dropped the spoon and punched Ernest square in the nose, squirting his blood and sending him reeling back thanks to the gargoyle’s power still residing inside her. The other two vespari with Ernest, however, made their move now. Each came at Wynonna, one pummeling her over the head with the butt of his pistol, while the other landed a punch right in her gut.
Though some of the Gentleman’s pain suppression still flowed through her runes, the effect was fading, and each of the blows hurt more than she would’ve liked. She bent forward, her hat falling to the floor, and she saw a bit of her blood drip down from her forehead. It just made her angrier.
Wynonna rose up, hitting the vespari with his gun out with an uppercut. The other, however, socked her across the face, knocking her back into the table with the large container of soup. She braced herself against it, and the table skidded a bit forward. The vespari grabbed her from behind, trying to hold her arms. She slammed her boot heel into his toes, eliciting a yell from him, and then reared around, bashing his face with her elbow.
Though the second man stumbled backward, Ernest came back into play. He charged her, knocking her into the table again, cracking her back against the wood and sending them both, along with the soup, plummeting over the other side. Landing against the stone floor, Wynonna smacked the back of her skull and blacked out for a few seconds.
When she regained consciousness, the other two vespari picked her up, holding her by each of her arms. She fought against them, but they dragged her back to the wall, while Ernest approached her.
“Bitches like you have to be trained,” he said, spitting blood from his mouth from her previous attack.
Ernest placed his left hand to her shoulder, pushing Wynonna harder against the wall, and with his right, he punched her in the gut. The other two held her still, as he repeated the attack several times over. Weakened and out of breath, she could hardly even struggle against her captors. Feeling the bruises already developing in her stomach, Wynonna was grateful when Ernest finally stopped, but he wasn’t done.
He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “You will never be one of us.”
As he leaned back, Wynonna spit the blood that had accumulated in her mouth right into his face.
Ernest growled, wiping the blood from her face. “You stupid bitch!”
He reared back again and hit her in the face, knocking the back of her head against the wall behind her. Blood poured from her mouth and nose, but he still hadn’t finished. Ernest gripped one hand around her throat, nearly choking her, and he punched her once more in the face.
All this finally proved enough to elicit a response from the rest of the vespari in the mess hall. They intervened, grabbing Ernest and pulling him away from her after he managed to land yet another blow. The two who held her in place released her arms, and Wynonna slopped to the ground, blood dripping from her face and with her gut on fire.
The intervening vespari dragged Ernest away, eventually out of the mess hall, but no one came to Wynonna’s aid any further than that. They all slowly filed out of the large room, leaving her alone to deal with her injuries. Slumping to one side, the vespari’s eyes narrowed to slits and then closed completely.
***
Waking on a bed, Wynonna raised her head up and saw Aut
umn sitting beside her. Her eyes were dull, and all the color had faded from her cheeks. Even her hair looked drained of its auburn hue.
“Autumn?” the vespari asked in a haze.
“Oh,” the quartermaster said, looking up at her. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah.” She paused and looked around. “Where am I?”
“The vespari private quarters. They took you here after they found you.”
“Where… where is Ernest?”
“He’s meeting with the elders. They’re giving him a commendation.”
“What?” she asked, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. That bastard attacked me.”
“From what everyone said, you were the one to throw the first punch.”
“That… that doesn’t matter. He provoked me.”
“You’re easily provoked, aren’t you? You have so much anger.”
Wynonna stared at Autumn, examining her dull expression. “Are you okay?”
“I just wanted you to know that I don’t want you coming around anymore.”
“What? I thought--”
“I want you to leave. You’re not a vespari. You don’t belong here. I don’t care about you.”
“What are you talking about?” Wynonna shook her head, not understanding.
“Ernest was right.”
“What?”
“He knows what’s best. He is the best of us.”
“He’s a bigot and a coward! He nearly beat me to death!”
“Yes,” Autumn said with a wicked smile. “He did what everyone else wanted to. We just wish he’d finished it and killed you.”
“Autumn, I--” Wynonna paused, seeing a glint of something in the woman’s eyes. With a scowl, she said, “Petronila.”
The smile on the quartermaster’s face widened, and the forked tongue licked out from her lips. She then shifted to her red-skinned form, and asked, “Are we having fun yet? Wouldn’t this just be easier if you released me from that chunk of bloody silver?”
“Never.”
The soul eater sighed. “Then, it seems we must continue.”
