Women Scorned (29 page)

She had to do her chant, though, or it wouldn’t work right. She began muttering in the language from her heart, the language the High Priest taught her from birth to recognize. As she spoke, several spirits hurtled out of the orb over the slab, screaming as they came into the chamber. Her mouth trembled as she continued chanting, eyes rolling back in her head, ecstasy rolling through her.

The time had come. Eternal life. Magic. They would be one with the spirit world once again, as they were meant to be.

Soon it would be time for her to lie across the slab. She knew, as she’d been taught, what the process would be and she pictured it now as she gazed at the beautiful, watery orb hovering above the place of birth, her amniotic sac. She would lie down and the orb would descend into her belly. She would give birth to the remaining spirits. They would flow from her body and into this world. As each one passed through her, she would be gifted with their powers, her payment for being the conduit.

Then she could go outside. They would no longer need to hide from the rest of the world because the rest of the world would thank them for all they’d done. They would be heroes for joining the spirit world back with the living world, the way it used to be, the way it ought to be. People would see their loved ones again. No one would ever be lonely. And they could use magic the way it was once used, the way it was in the time of Merlin.

She would be the mother.

She heard commotion around her.
They are in awe
, she thought, not opening her eyes.
And why shouldn’t they be? It’s all we’ve been planning for.
She didn’t notice Libitina leading Camilla out of the cavern.

*  *  *

That bitch will ruin everything
, the spirit inside the High Priest screamed mentally, watching the redhead lead Rory’s female half away.
After all my planning
. The spirit calling itself Satan, after a name familiar to the High Priest, had forced itself completely into the High Priest’s body because the weakling had doubted too much and would have ruined everything. When the ungrateful mortal tried to take control again, it had to force the spirit out completely. There was no other way to keep complete control until the ritual was done. Once the ritual was complete, it would give the High Priest his body back and grant him what it promised: eternal life.

But its faithful servant’s essence had gone elsewhere. It didn’t know where, exactly, couldn’t sense it any longer, but it would worry about this once the ritual was over, would punish the man upon his return.

It yelled, “Stop her!” but no one heard it over the High Priestess’s incantation and the din from the escaping spirits. So beautiful and free. It wanted to join them, to let its spirit soar with theirs. But that girl had to be stopped first.

It would do it himself. The spirit prepared to leap from the High Priest’s body.

And couldn’t.

Something bound it to the flesh.

It tried again.

Again, nothing happened. It watched the redhead leave the cavern with the female half of Rory and tried running after them. It could only manage to get so far. The jumble of robed figures impeded its progress, all staring at the altar.

It turned and realized its mistake. It was too late.

*  *  *

Camilla tried to resist Libitina, but when the redhead spoke in that commanding voice, something inside her responded, compelled to do as Libitina bade, though she couldn’t say why.

She longed to be back with Rory’s male half, to draw on that strong life force once again. Never had she felt so alive, so complete. Colors were more vibrant. And the electric sensations pulsing through her… She couldn’t help comparing it to sex, it felt so good.

She knew kissing him was killing her but didn’t care. There was still so much to draw on. If she could only manage to continue kissing him and then stop at the last moment, just before the two of them devoured their life forces completely, maybe she could continue on for a bit longer. Maybe she wouldn’t have to stop. It could work. She wanted to try it.

But Libitina pulled her away.

She could hear the man who had dragged her down the aisle shouting for someone to stop them but it seemed no one heard him. No one moved to obey. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had. She was leaving. And she could be okay with that. She had to be. Libitina commanded it.

Voices echoed all around the chamber. Something bright blue zoomed past her head. The spirits were escaping.

*  *  *

Rory watched as its female half was pulled away. Eager to follow, it took a couple steps forward, but then retreated. Rory knew that devouring its female half would destroy it. If it was destroyed, it would no longer get to taste other life forces.

But hers would be worth it
, it thought. It was about to follow but then heard the man in the blue robe yelling for someone to stop them. If she was captured again, all would be lost to both of them. It couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t allow itself to go on in this place.

It had been locked up in the manor too long, had become weak, but its female half’s breath had energized it, giving it the strength to escape these people. There was an opening behind the High Priestess. She was so transfixed in her chanting, in watching the blue orb, that she didn’t see it as it slipped deeper into the caves through the opening at her back.

In darkness, it traveled on, trying to find a way out so that it could transfer itself to a healthier, fresher body and continue doing what it came to the living world to do.

*  *  *

Through tears and fear, Libitina had enough sense to grab a candlestick from one of the sconces drilled into the cave walls. Transparent figures flew past them, disappearing into the shadows.
This can’t happen
, Libitina thought as she pulled Camilla along through the flickering darkness.

Her foot caught a rock and she fell, scraping her elbow and her knee. Blood ran down her arm and shin. She hardly noticed the pain, so focused was she on getting Camilla and herself out of the caverns. The door waited ahead. She could feel it.

The fork in the passage caught her off guard, however. She didn’t remember seeing it on the way in. Which one to take? She bounced on her toes looking back and forth between the two passages.

“What do you think?” she asked Camilla.

Camilla looked back over her shoulder, a terrible grin spreading over her face. Even though she almost couldn’t stomach looking at Camilla anymore, a sense of duty forced her. She couldn’t let anything bad happen to Camilla. She just couldn’t.

“Which way should we go?” Her voice carried tones of impatience, the sharp edge drawing Camilla’s attention.

“Huh?”

“The path. Which way should we take?”

“Where are we going? We have to finish the ritual. They were going to help…” her voice trailed off as if she were talking in her sleep. She looked back over her shoulder again, the expression of longing returning to her face.

“We’re going out. We are leaving this place. We can’t stay here. This has to stop. They aren’t helping you. Can’t you see the ghosts all over this place?”

Just as Libitina mentioned them, one of the souls barreled into her as it passed, slashing at her back on its way by. She screamed and fell, the pain in her injured knee flaring up, making her collapse to her side.

“They’ll be everywhere if we don’t stop this.” She panted, clutching her injury. “We have to go now. Which way?”

“I don’t…”

Libitina pulled herself up and chose the path on the right. Nothing guided but a slight breeze, barely felt through the commotion warding her in the other direction. She thought a waft of air was not a good thing since the way she wanted to go ended in a heavy metal door and wouldn’t have any breeze coming from it.

Unless someone left the door open. But not the freaks that ran this place, she was sure. The candles along the tunnel had been lit when she came down before. They weren’t now; none of them after the fork had been. She wasn’t sure if this was a bad sign or not.

But she wouldn’t stop. Forward was better than back. A sense of urgency filled her. It would be too late to escape if she waited any longer. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did.

Camilla shuffled along behind her, seeming indifferent to Libitina’s need for haste. With a grunt of impatience, she squeezed Camilla’s arm tighter than she meant to and yanked her along. Camilla stumbled and almost fell, gasping as she righted herself. Libitina heard her neck crack as it lolled sideways and felt sorry for jerking her. It wasn’t like she was in the best shape for running.

The darkness crowded them, but Libitina pushed on.

*  *  *

It was night. Darkness was all around Aludra, closing in; dizziness consumed her. Somehow, everything had gone wrong. Somehow, she wasn’t where she belonged. And it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Chanting. Somewhere in the darkness, there was chanting, and screaming, and laughter, and harsh whispers like hissed venom. Aludra’s fingers twitched. Her eyelids fluttered. Her shallow breathing went unnoticed by all. Still alive, somewhere, in the darkness.

And the incantation. The rhythmic, nonsensical words passed through her drifting mind, pulled her from darkness, back into consciousness. That woman. That hateful, evil woman. The word
bitch
floated in her mind, spat at her by all those who hated her, the ones she’d showed the pleasures of pain. The High Priestess was a bitch. She knew this, knew what the word meant without needing it explained to her.

The High Priestess’s voice intruded on her, forced her awake once again. Her eyelids trembled again, then opened. She took a moment to focus, but when she did, all her attention was on the bloody, curved blade. Her vengeance in shining silver, coated with her own crimson life. She would end it. Had to end it. She tried to take a deeper breath and couldn’t. Tried to bring her arms under her chest to push herself up. Nothing happened.

Her fingers jerked again. Her shoulder shifted. And then, as if by some miracle, she gained just enough momentum to rock her body back and bring her arm up, hand under her left breast. She did the same thing on the right side of her body, bringing her right hand under her chest. Then the knees. Slowly, she brought her knees under her body and managed to gain balance as the High Priestess continued her ritual chant.

The blade. Her vengeance. The bitch. She glanced to her left and saw the orb hovering over the stone slab where it was supposed to be. But the two halves of Rory, where were they? How far had the ritual progressed? She didn’t care. All that mattered was destroying her destroyer. She would do it, would muster the strength.

The knife was right there, next to the High Priestess’s foot. All she had to do was reach for it. Just reach for it. She would worry about standing up once she had the blade. One step at a time. She needed to reach for the blade.

She rocked forward and stretched out her left hand. And wavered from physical weakness. She put her hand down, steadied herself once again, took a shallow breath, felt dizzy, but tried again. She reached for the blade.

And grabbed it.

*  *  *

Trapped. Trapped. The spirit pushed at the walls of flesh encasing it. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Had to get out. Had to be free. Had to stop what had gone wrong. But where did it all go wrong?

And then it realized. The High Priest. Without that spirit, without the High Priest to inhabit the body, unless it killed the body, it was stuck, in this limited existence.

It couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Then it saw the dark virgin stirring from the depths of death. How had she managed to return? She’d died. It had watched her slump to the floor and stop breathing. But she was on her hands and knees now, reaching, swaying.

For what?

Next to the High Priestess’s foot, shining, catching the glint of candlelight amid blood. The blade. She reached, she swayed, she grabbed.

The High Priestess wasn’t seeing. She didn’t know. All was wrong. Everything was over. All they’d planned for all these years was about to collapse around him and there was nothing it could do about it.

Blocked by the very subjects who had helped it prepare for this moment; it watched Aludra try to stand, unable to reach her in time to stop her.

*  *  *

Unaware of the disaster about to take place, the High Priestess gazed at the orb, bringing the chalice to her lips, tears streaming down her face. The spirits soared around her, beautiful, glimmering, and mixing with the living world in the most wondrous way, more magical than she’d ever imagined.

The spirits called her name, shouted out the names of their enemies, cried, laughed, caressed her.

“Mother,” she heard over and over again. Yes. She would be their mother. She would love them all, care for them all. She was ready. One more drink of Aludra’s blood, and she’d lie back on the stone slab to deliver the spirits to the world.

She chanted louder, more passionate with every breath, the language from her heart passing her lips faster and faster. Nothing was more beautiful than the sight before her, the orb floating above her slab, the orb that would go inside her, the spirits that would be her children.

“My babies,” she said and went to drink again of Aludra’s blood.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Libitina gasped and panted at Camilla’s side, growing weaker. She stopped and swayed. Maybe she would faint. Her eyes rolled back but then she continued on, feet scuffing the dirt floor.

All my fault,
Camilla thought, realizing for the first time all the trouble this woman had gone through at her expense. The following, the fear, the trying to escape, the helping, and now she’d almost died. Libitina’s burnt arms trembled, the blood dripping from her elbow to made muddy spots on the floor. But Libitina’s strong hand still clenched Camilla’s upper arm, the fingers digging into her pale flesh.