Hell, p.34
Hell, page 34
What had she done?
In her hands she held her knife, the blade, similarly nude. Her room was in shambles, the feather mattress hemorrhaging down from dozens of slashes, her wardrobe full of dresses, dragged out and cut to ribbons, all the furniture overturned and broken. The sole thing left untouched being the portrait, which once again occupied its place of honor above the mantle. On the ground, a single sheet of paper bore a single sentence parsed in a flowing script utterly unlike her spiky chicken scratch.
I don’t know who you are, but you will not take what is mine without a fight.
Ciara Magdalena Seldeen
She heard the sound of vague rumbling below, her cry having definitely awakened Yurgis. She had only moments before his imminent arrival. Sheathing her knife and stuffing it up the flue at the back of the fireplace, she crumpled the note, retreating to the furthest corner of her room to cower like a whipped dog to await his arrival. Walking across the carpet, her bare toes encountered scattered clumps of hair. Puzzled, she instinctively reached up to brush her own hair back behind her ear and paused, shocked. As the door behind her burst open, she was standing before the mirror.
“Tatiana, what have you done to self?”
She looked foreign, alien even. Like something not of this world. The latticework of eyes that encircled her head appeared like a crown. Rarely had she seen them, being usually covered by her hair, but now they stared back at her, blazing with the light of awareness. Those scholars were certainly in for a shock, she decided.
Whatever had occurred during her time in Yetzirah had left her perfectly bald, head shaved down to the skin. Her scalp was covered in deep nicks and gouges where an unstable hand had wielded her knife. Truly unsettling, however, was that her entire body had been likewise shorn. Even down to the fine, wiry hair that only a few years before had begun to spring up around her womanly parts, at the crook where her skinny legs came together. Running her hand over the newly smooth skin, she had to suppress a flush of sinful arousal.
She recounted the chakra names as told to her by Izaak. Repeating them like a mantra. “Muladhara, Swadhisthana, Manipura, Anahata, Vishuddha, Ajna, Sahasrara.” She spoke the names and touched them each in turn. This made her think of him. Where was he now? Probably home in Danzig, or out captaining his ship on the high seas. Wherever he was, she wished him safety as she slipped the silver cross about her neck, preparing to follow Yurgis and Maria into the city.
She wore the old travel-stained clothes received from Yurgis when leaving the hospital in Warsaw, a seeming lifetime ago. Over this she pulled her old cassock. The irony not lost upon her that the clothes she arrived in were now all she had left. Collecting the shredded corpses of her dresses she’d tied them end to end, resulting in a rope nearly four meters long. It wouldn’t hold, but she didn’t need it to, all she needed was a few meters leeway before she dropped. At least they were finally being put to good use. As a final precaution, she fashioned a makeshift shroud out of her queen sized bed sheets, so as to not become even more filthy as she shimmied up the chimney. Trying it on, she appeared as a child’s drawing of a ghost...
That evening Yurgis delivered her dinner as usual, leaving her to eat with her hands since she wasn’t to be trusted with utensils of any kind. As soon as his key turned in her lock, she started up. Back against the bricks, legs stretched out before her, balancing with her hands as she worked her way up. The flue, caked with decades of soot, rained down as she made her ascent. Though it choked her lungs and clouded her vision, it also provided a rough surface for her feet and hands to cling to, and her lithe frame fit up the passage easily. Before she knew it, she was standing on the roof looking down at the front stoop, hoping for several minutes before their departure.
She paced the edge, searching for an anchor point for her rope. Peering down at the cobblestones below, a heavy feeling of vertigo came over her, dropping from here would break her. Moving to the back of the house she tied off around the parlor chimney and tossed over, her rope dangling a full four meters above the tallest back garden bushes. Though she had fallen from greater distances before, it hadn’t left her in any condition to give chase, she had to be careful. Discarding her bedsheet robe, she started down.
Right away she could feel the rope giving, the fabric drawing tight, all the knots clamping down. A sharp, ripping noise, barely audible above the general din of the surrounding city.
Please hold, a few more seconds…
With a final, cataclysmic tear, she was dropped into space, an unwilling victim of gravity’s lawful whims, a rag doll thrown by a petulant child. The familiar feeling of falling, filling her with fear and frustration as her nightmares once again came true; as they always did.
Crashing into the tall hedge on her back, her foot caught a thick branch, wrenching her into a spin that sent her tumbling through sharp leaves and thorns before dropping her nearly head first on the hard packed earth. For several seconds she didn’t move, stunned from the impact and concerned something might be broken. She was thankful for the cassock, it’s thick woolen weave, for the most part, protecting her from the brunt of the Holly hedge’s wrath.
She gingerly rose, carefully testing her ankle before putting her full weight on it. A slight gasp, indicative of a light sprain; nothing she couldn’t deal with. Taking great pains to remain silent, she climbed the wrought iron gate. Dropping to the uneven cobblestones, she sidled along the side of the house, crouching expectantly in the shadows thrown by the impending sunset.
The wait wasn’t long. Presently the front door opened and Maria and Yurgis ventured out into the gloaming. To her relief they hadn’t hired a carriage, instead striking out on foot, exiting Falconhead lane and turning starboard along the high street. Keeping her steps light, she trailed them at a safe distance, ducking into doorways or alleys to avoid detection. People on the street eyed her warily, but their looks and thoughts didn’t concern her, she only had eyes for her quarry.
Yurgis was clever, taking a convoluted and circuitous route to their destination, doubling back through deserted alleys and bustling plazas, but Tat was determined. Her failure could mean Maria’s death, and she was adamant in her pursuit to avoid such an outcome; a noble goal which sharpened her resolve and heightened her senses, allowing her to tail them the whole way undetected.
Ultimately they reached a lichyard in a part of the city she’d never been to. Yurgis and Maria entered a copse of trees to shield them from view as they jumped the fence. Tat waited a full minute then followed suit, wincing as she touched down on the soft, spongy ground.
She inhaled the damp, rotting smell of death and pressed on, picking a meandering path between the headstones. The ancient graveyard seemed endless, growing organically over the centuries, with each new death, into a labyrinthine mess of memory and regret. The pair was nowhere to be seen. They could’ve gone any number of different ways.
Her steps quickened their pace, the first pangs of despair coming over her. Row upon row of crypts and monuments passed in a frantic rush, fear welling up in her, exacerbated by the terrifying atmosphere of this ghastly necropolis. Alone in the vault of night, a reluctant tourist in the city of the dead.
Needing time to regroup, she forced herself to pause upon a headstone to think. What was her plan? She had no idea how to get home, no money to hire a carriage, and the chance of finding them was becoming unlikelier by the moment. Every second she tarried here only left her further from their trail. It wasn’t fair, she’d done so well, how had they eluded her? How could she lose them when she’d been so close? Depression threatened to bog her down into a mire of tears, prompting a surge of anger.
No, I won’t let these feelings control me. Mother needs my help.
Shaking off destructive emotions, she set off once again, following her first instincts. Passing through a stone archway, she entered into an older, more affluent ward, resplendent in statuary ranging from grotesque gargoyles to heavenly angels, with every form of plinth, monument and memorial in between. The night sounds of rustling leaves and crickets faded into the far off commotion of the world of the living, against whose shores this vast sea of death broke in waves of impending doom.
Her hard-won resolution was cracking again, threatening panic. She couldn’t take anymore, they’d lost her. Turning away from her path, she struck out to seek an exit to this madness. After several random turns, the faint sound of stone scraping against stone pricked up her ears, dispelling her fears and once again putting her on the scent.
Peering around a corner, the barest glimpse of Maria disappearing into a tomb. The name upon the door was Roberts, confusing Tat. What was Yurgis seeking here, and why did he require the presence of her mother? Her question was answered a moment later as she spied the neighboring tomb. An impressive mausoleum bearing the familiar moniker, Seldeen.
They’d left the door open a crack, enough for her to squeeze through. A brief moment of hesitation, the sinking feeling that this was the point of no return, before darting inside. The darkness within was complete. She hadn’t thought to bring a candle, no way to light it even if she had. Feeling her way along the wall with her hands, the scuff of a boot on the marble floor told her heightened senses she wasn’t alone. Silently ducking behind the stone casket as Yurgis struck a match, lighting a lantern in the adjacent chamber.
“You close door?” Even whispering, his voice reverberated off the stone walls.
Tat searched her mother’s face for any sign of emotion, any indication as to the threat level impinged on her precarious existence.
“No, it’s too heavy, close it yourself.” She gave nothing, a stone mask, her countenance.
With an annoyed grunt, Yurgis reentered the room, heaving the great stone door shut, less than a meter from where Tat quailed, scarcely breathing.
That was too close, she thought.
There was no way she would be able to open that door, effectively trapping her in here with them. Returning to Maria, Yurgis pulled back a heavy tarpaulin, letting light into the tomb. Together they descended into a hole cut in the marble floor of the vault, from whence golden torchlight emanated.
Her heart was beating like a rabbit’s. It took a concerted effort to still her heavy breathing and calm down. There was naught to fear but physical punishment and solitary confinement. Yurgis would never kill her, and if it meant her mother’s survival, she would endure hell itself.
No more death.
She made the silent pledge to herself, almost believing that it was in her power to uphold; seeing in her mind’s eye those who weren’t so lucky...
Crawling on her hands and knees through the dust and the spiders, she peeked warily over the edge. It descended about two meters then struck perpendicular. The torchlight was coming from further down that shaft. Taking a deep breath, steeling herself, she crawled into the hole.
The tunnel was large enough for her to stand fully upright. So this was what her father had been doing all those days and nights he was gone. It was no small job to move this much earth. Why? For what reason? Her mother’s voice, raised in anger, spurned her on towards a bend in the tunnel, where she chanced a quick peek around the edge.
Beyond a rough portal chipped out of the stone wall of the neighboring tomb, her parents stood before a large sarcophagus. The final resting place of her grandfather, Esion Seldeen. Why they hadn’t gone through the door of his sepulcher was a mystery to her. Why all the subterfuge, all the work digging a tunnel? Though they had their backs to her, their voices were clearly audible.
Yurgis was agitated, “Open it!” He demanded.
“But, Yurgis, I...” stammered Maria, fear beginning to creep into her words.
“Don’t toy with me woman, this crypt is rigged with enough dynamite to level whole city block. I know this casket is triggering mechanism as well as door, I also know that you know how to disarm, yes?”
“Please…”
“SILENCE!” Roared Yurgis, striking Maria across the face. Tat cursed him under her breath as her mother’s heartbreaking sobs echoed down the tunnel to her.
“Either you open it now, or I break your legs, then you open it now, yes?”
“Why must you desecrate my father’s resting place? He treated you like a son!” Maria moaned.
“Because he’s not in there. You know it, I know it. Esion Seldeen can never die… he is immortal.”
What?! Tat couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
At this Maria stopped sobbing, suddenly serious. “How did you know? He told you?”
“Of course he did. He told me in Egypt, day she came into this world. He also told me to steal her away, showed me how to draw out and feed upon her potent, virginal Auric, storing it up to sustain life. The same way he fed off yours.”
A flush of emotion threatened to sweep her away. There it was, the awful truth behind what had become of the father she’d loved. It all seemed so obvious now, in light of all she’d learned at the Tree.
When two people couple, their auras merge and there is an ungoverned exchange of Auric, the universal life force. Tiphareth’s words coming back to her, casting their revealing light on hidden truths.
All her life she’d thought him merely an evil, molesting cur, remaining ignorant of the twisted, symbiotic relationship that tied them to one another from the day of her birth. The rape, the abuse, the cold calculation required to devour a spirit to stave off death. Worse yet, to delude himself into believing righteous reasoning for his actions.
I am protecting world from you.
While she could discern a certain level of semantic truth behind it, in light of recent events, it was all becoming so clear to her. He’d always known of her abilities, and to keep them at bay, he’d become a monster. Draining as much of her life force as he could to keep her power from manifesting, but his plan had backfired.
Vessel for the eater of worlds...
When she’d murdered the troupe, he must’ve realized that he couldn’t suppress her any longer, and decided to bring her back to Esion. He painted himself the valiant savior, but there was no forgiving this, no tragic-hero loophole to escape retribution. She’d not thought it humanly possible, but her hatred of him intensified a hundred fold in that moment.
Maria was positively livid, “How dare you! My father is a great man. I gave freely of my Auric to sustain him. To take it by force? You are a demon and a base monster, nothing more than you’ve ever been, a petty thief. How could you do that to our daughter?”
Yurgis began to laugh, echoing in the tiny chamber, feeding back into itself, becoming a terrible pandemonium. Tat covered her ears, nearly bolting at the sound.
“Why continue these games, Maria? Have you forgotten? Playing loving Matriarch is part ill suited for you. You know that creature is neither your daughter… nor mine.”
Nothing could’ve prepared Tat for what Yurgis just said. In her mind echoed a scream that could’ve crumbled mountains. She slumped to the floor of the tunnel in shock, in the space of a split second, utterly destroyed inside
Yurgis was not her father!
She thought of her nightmare the first night in Maria’s house, of being eaten alive by vultures. Then of the changes she’d seen in not only Yurgis, but Maria as well, seeming to become younger, more vital. She was being consumed, eaten alive...
Who was she? Where were her real parents? Where did she come from? If she wasn’t a Seldeen, why go through all the trouble of having her declared as heiress? Questions assaulted her mind, overwhelming her feeling of relief that she was, in fact, not related to Yurgis at all. She continued to listen.
“No, Yurgis, nor have I forgotten how you’ve forced me to pretend to be that poor girl’s mother in order to bring her back from death’s door, working to mitigate the damage you’ve done. This is too dangerous, she is too dangerous. I regret that I ever went along with this plan.”
“But you did. You know that immortality appeals to you as much as I. To have what He has. She is only one who can bestow it. In entire world there is no other, will never be another.”
“Fine! Yes, I do desire immortality, of course I do, and I know that my father is not in the coffin. Why then must I open it?”
“Esion told me many secrets, except one. The final step to stave off death forever. Closing Mortal Gap. He told me that once manifested, I was to bring her to him, he would reveal. This coffin is only lead I have, I believe answer we seek is inside.”
Maria was silent for several seconds. “Okay,” she replied, and taking the crowbar, began to chip away at the mortar sealing the sarcophagus, the clang of metal on stone ringing in Tat’s ears.
She still couldn’t process it. The obsession he maintained, his unflagging stoicism in tending such vast reservoirs of evil. The patience with which he’d meted out acts meant to draw out her life force to fuel this sick desire for everlasting life. All the sadness, hatred and guilt she’d ever felt had fed the flames of his madness. The worst part was that Maria, who she now realized she’d been growing to love, was an accomplice in this devouring of her spirit. Even if she had been largely unwilling, this betrayal was almost worse than Yurgis’ for she fed off this burgeoning love and affection…
All sin is equal in the eyes of the Lord.
She had to get away; away from these people who meant nothing to her, who sought to end her life to prolong theirs. She had to find her real parents, or at least find out what happened to them, to discover where she belonged. Above all, unravel the mystery as to why and how she could be such a danger to the world. Yurgis had said that she alone in all the world could grant immortality. Did she contain such potential? The power to grant life as well as snatch it away? Up until now she’d delivered naught but death and destruction. He’d always known what she was, and she was forever ignorant.
Izaak had spoken truly, nothing was as she imagined it.
Once she’d finished disarming the traps, she and Yurgis heaved the lid off. He removed a sheet of parchment rolled into a tight tube, which he unfurled and read. Several seconds later he laughed.
