Dark Thread

by Crymsyn Hart

  The Fates crawled over to him on their knees. “Yes, Mighty One.”

  They touched his feet. Chaos passed his hands over their heads. They screamed and raised their arms to ward him off, but they were too weak. He sucked in their energy so quickly that they shrunk from the inside out. Their clothes collapsed to the ground until there was nothing left of them. He turned and went to face Legba, but Gabbie jumped in front of him.

  “Get out of my way, beast, or you’ll be next,” Chaos said.

  “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  “Fine, then I hurt you.” He waved his hand. Gabbie turned to stone, becoming the menacing gargoyle that Darria had seen perched on churches.

  “You’ll feed me too, flesh of my flesh. I’ll grow stronger until you burn out, and then, I can take back everything lost to me. Of all my children, you are the only one who remains.”

  Legba laughed. “I am not your son any more than Hekate was my sister. We might’ve originated from you, but I don’t remember you raising us. Besides, I’m a death god. Chaos can’t exist for a long time. You won’t turn the world into your oyster so that you can find the pearl at the center of it. You will be stopped.”

  “I don’t think so. You’ll fuel my rebirth.” Chaos held out his hand to draw Legba’s essence into him.

  Darria forced herself to stand on wobbly legs. The power within her raged. “Hey,” she called.

  Chaos paid no attention to her. Mercury reappeared and charged at him full force, goring Chaos in the shoulder with one of his long horns. The bull slammed him back into one of the crypts on the other side of the pathway. Darria rushed to Legba and tried not to throw up from the sudden rush of her head spinning.

  “Come on, love, cut me free, and I’ll owe you one,” Papa said.

  “Swear it,” Darria said.

  Mercury squealed something as he fought with Chaos. The god had gotten himself off the bull’s horn and was trying to get around the large creature. There wasn’t much time left before he came back and went at Legba again.

  “You want me to swear now?”

  She held up the scissors. “Do you want me to cut you loose?”

  “Fine. I swear that I owe you one, love. Now set me free,” Legba entreated her.

  Darria used the scissors, expecting to find the webbing too sticky to cut through, but it was fairly easy as though she were snipping regular thread. She got him free. He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Thank you, beautiful lady.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I wish you luck against Chaos.”

  “Wait. You’re not going to help me fight him?” She jabbed the scissors at Legba.

  “’Fraid not. I don’t feel like dying today. By the way, you might want to add those to your collection. Finders’ keepers. Ta-ta.” Legba smiled and disappeared.

  Darria glanced at the scissors and placed them against her left arm, but nothing happened. She then placed them on her right hand underneath the needle, and they shrunk in there. She felt a tingle from the added weight and the power that went along with them. These were weapons that could cut the thread of death and other things. She had no idea what she would use them for, but it appeared that they wanted to become a part of her.

  Mercury brayed once more. The bull shrank until nothing remained of it except ash. Chaos walked away and approached Darria. She grasped for the scissors. The screams of the spirits filled her mind. They were all congregating around her and trying to stay out of Chaos’s way. She was running on empty. The power of the dead remained inside of her, but she wasn’t sure about her other half. It didn’t matter now. This flame ignited inside of her, giving her strength, but she needed more power to recover. The energy of death was all around her. Darria saw the lines of power that tapped into purgatory. Surely, Chaos did too because he was in Oliver’s body. Darria stretched out her mind. It was her only chance to give in to the dead, to give in to the very thing she had been trying so hard to get away from, but she couldn’t run from who she was.

  Oliver walked toward her with a swagger he had never had. The smirk on his face told her everything she needed to know. Chaos was the only being within him now. If he wasn’t, Oliver was buried under him so far down that she couldn’t reach him. He couldn’t leave the graveyard. If Chaos tapped into whatever abilities Oliver had, then he also had the powers of the grim reaper or an angel.

  “You let Legba go. Such a naughty child.”

  “Yes, I did. You think I was going to let you use him up the way you did the Dark Fates or Mercury? I don’t think so.”

  “He leaves you stranded in this reality with me. The lone guardian. I’ve already tasted you. If it weren’t for you, undertaker, necromancer, and a bit of something else I long thought extinguished from mankind, then I wouldn’t be here. I guess you do deserve a nobler death. It’d only be fair to the mother who bore me into this world. It was silly of the sisters to think they could use my power to rebuild the world into their own image. They had no idea what was really befalling them.”

  “I’m really tired of everyone pontificating at me. Why don’t we get on with this? Once I’m done killing you, I’m resurrecting my assistant, healing my harvester, and then taking a long, hot bath before I make sure my familiar is reattached to his severed left hand. Maybe I’ll even let him feel me up. I don’t know. I’m sick of dealing with all of this shit.” The energy of the graveyard engulfed her.

  “Darria. Interesting name, by the way. Did you know it means ‘upholder of the good’?”

  “Great. Glad to know my name has some wonderful meaning. You aren’t going to get out of here alive.”

  Chaos walked over to her.

  “Let’s make this quick. I’m getting hungry again. How do you wish to die?”

  “I’m not going to die,” Darria whispered.

  Chaos flicked his wrist, and hands burst out of the dirt, grabbing her legs. They held her in place. Other spirits materialized and captured her arms. It appeared that he learned how to tap into Oliver’s powers. Another had ahold of her throat. She had no way to access her tattoos to pull them out of her flesh. She was screwed.

  “You didn’t think that I wasn’t going to learn your harvester’s abilities, did you? The energy of this place is quite satisfying. I’ve learned a few new tricks, thanks to him and his angelic background. He not in here anymore. I used him all up. Very tasty. I’ll make this easy for you since he did have feelings for you. One last kiss. How does that take you?” Chaos chuckled.

  The look might have been Oliver’s face, but it wasn’t the man she loved. “I’m not going to let you win. Oliver is still in there.”

  He laughed. Chaos might have had the power to summon and control the spirits, but he still wasn’t confident about how to wield it. However, it controlled the harvester first. She had done it before, but it had all been instinctual. Darria had to do it now and forge another link between the two of them. Darria disregarded the hands holding her. She closed her eyes and used her will to pierce the veil around Chaos’s mind. She drove forward, and it was like moving through cement as she worked through the layers of his mind.

  The grip on her body weakened. It was difficult to make sense of the energies she felt there: life, death, rebirth, evil, good, nothing, and everything. Oliver has to be in here somewhere. She conjured up the thread she had and felt something tingle on her flesh. On her arm, the needle came to life. It could pierce things and sew them together. She set the needle on her hand, and it shot from her palm. Darria raced through his mind until she came to the back corner of Oliver’s thoughts. Oliver was curled into a ball, his dark wings folded over him. His feathers were withered, and most of them had turned to ash. She sunk down before him and moved one of his wings aside. Oliver cried out. The sound turned her heart.

  “No more. Please. Enough,” he pleaded.

  “Shh ... it’s me,” Darria whispered. She sensed the danger she was in being there, but it didn’t matter. Her physical bo
dy was still battering away at Chaos. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. She only had a few minutes before she had to get back.

  Oliver moved his wing back, and what she saw stunned her. His skin sagged off his bones. The poison the Dark Fates had inflicted upon him had carved a black road map across his face and body. His chest was bare, and the scars were even more prominent. Large handprints marred the perfection of his flesh where Chaos had drained his energy.

  “You’re another shade he sent to torment me.” Oliver tried to sit up against the tombstone.

  “No. It’s me. I promise.” She touched his cheek, but he still shied away from her.

  “Lies to torment me. You and all the other shadows.”

  She bit her lip and wondered if the poison had affected his spirit as well and if this was all that was left of the man she loved. She took his face in her hands. “Would a shade do this?” Darria kissed him. On his mouth, she could taste the acrid tang of the toxin in his system. Some clarity returned to his eyes when she pulled away.

  “Darria,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “You have to get out of here. He’s draining all of me. I can’t ... I won’t exist much longer. I’ve only lasted this long because I’m an angel and a reaper. You have to stop him.”

  “I know I do.”

  “It’s not me on the outside.”

  She nodded, holding back the tears. There was only one thing left to do. “I know.”

  “You have to go. You’re the one hope we all have left,” Oliver begged.

  “You know that day in the graveyard when you cut our conversation short? I came because I wanted to tell you something.”

  “I know what you were going to say.” He placed a finger on her lips. “You know what you have to do.”

  “I do.”

  “Then do it. Don’t wait to see me fade away.” Oliver raised both of his hands before she could respond and shoved her with the last of his strength.

  Darria landed back in her body. Chaos lingered centimeters from her lips. She tried to move away from him, but the ghosts still had her feet.

  “Nice trick, whatever you did, but there’s no escaping. I don’t know how you did that, either. No human has ever taken over a god before.”

  Darria thought about the scissors. She had pulled the key from her arm before and summoned it directly to her palm. Maybe she could do the same with the scissors. She focused and felt their tingling energy. They grew from the ink lines they had become and slipped into her fingers. With every last shred of her power, she blasted away the spirit holding her right arm and struck Chaos in the center of the chest with the double blades.

  “I’m not any ordinary human.”

  Chapter 16

  Chaos gripped the scissors and laughed. He tried to pull the shears out of his chest, but they were lodged in deep. Then, he stumbled backward. “What have you done to me?” he gasped. Chaos fell to his knees. The ghosts returned to their graves.

  Darria couldn’t look away as Oliver’s body began to dissolve. “You inhabited the body of a grim reaper. Those scissors are one of the things that can kill a harvester. Die once more, and you will never return.”

  Chaos drew in his last breath, and his body burst into a million tiny particles. All that remained were the scissors. Darria fell to her knees as painful sobs wracked her body. She had lost Oliver. Darria had never gotten the chance to tell him how she felt. It didn’t matter if he had known. She had never said the words. Darria recovered the scissors and placed them back into her right arm. She pressed her forehead to the ground and let the tears flow. Nothing could bring him back. Nothing was going to turn back time. Hekate was dead. Her assistant was dead. Omar was somewhere on the spiritual plane. Papa Legba abandoned her. Gabbie had been turned to stone. Marie was back at the house.

  Darria was truly alone.

  * * * *

  Darria dreamed over and over again of Oliver reaching out to her. She could never touch him. Her fingers brushed his, and he fell to dust.

  “Oliver,” she cried out.

  She woke from her dream and sat up. She was back in the house. “How did I get here?” Darria expected to see Oliver in the corner of her room, but all she saw was the same black spider she had seen before. Sprites flitted about her room. They must have stayed behind. She recognized Heffla.

  “You’re awake.” The voice was a whisper that came from the door.

  Darria glanced over and saw an older, hunched-over woman who resembled Marie. She hobbled into the bedroom and stiffly sat down on the bed. At a quick glance of her arm, Darria saw one last poppy with only a couple of its petals clinging to the stem. “Marie?”

  “Didn’t recognize me at first, did you?”

  “Not really. Are you okay?”

  Marie waved her off and chuckled, which turned into a coughing fit. She placed a hand on her chest. Once the fit had passed, she looked up again. “I’m dying, but that’s nothing new. Legba let me hang on a little longer. I think he’s worried about you. He told the sprites where to find you. They brought you back here and helped me take care of you.”

  “How long have I been here?” Darria asked. “The last thing I remember was Oliver and Chaos.” The images of him blowing away on the breeze washed through her mind. She shook her head, so she wouldn’t be overtaken by the rush of emotions. They crept up her throat and hardened into a lump. Marie patted her hand.

  “Hush now. You’ve been sleeping for a week. I think you slipped into some kind of magical coma. I’ve heard about it but never truly seen it. I checked to be sure you had not passed on. The sprites used their magic to make sure you were nourished, although I’m not sure how that worked. Someone’s looking out for you.”

  “It’s not Legba. He vamoosed right after I freed him.”

  “He’s been doing it since the beginning of time. He’s the only god left from the original council. You must be hungry. There’s food downstairs and, well ... I’m not sure how long I’m going to be around. No bodies have shown up, so that’s been helpful.”

  “Do you know what happened?” Darria whispered. She glanced around the room. The spider hadn’t moved.

  Marie touched her right arm. “Your tattoos have changed once more. You might want to figure out what that all means. Seems your destiny got twisted about a little bit.”

  “Guess so.”

  Marie forced herself to get up and off the bed. Darria tried to get up, but Heffla and a few other sprites zoomed in and helped the other woman stand up. “Now that you’re awake, it’s time for me to go.”

  Darria stood up and felt the world shift. “Am I going to see you again?”

  Marie glanced at her arm. One petal remained. “I feel lighter. I wanted you to know I have some things coming here for you. I’m not sure you need them now, but they’ll help you. Come here. Give me a hug. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” She wrapped her frail arms around Darria and gave her a fierce hug. “I’ll miss you, girl. Don’t worry about me. Legba will treat me fine. I’m used to it. When you’re up for it, head down into your workroom.”

  Marie released her and walked out of the room. Darria peered out the door, and the hall was empty. She couldn’t hear anything in the house. It was the most alone she had ever felt. Heffla tugged on her arm. Darria didn’t understand the leader flitting about. However, there was something that she wanted her to see.

  “All right. I’m coming, but I’m not really awake yet. Can’t I get some coffee and something to eat?” Darria’s stomach growled.

  Heffla shook her head no.

  “Fine.” Darria glanced down and realized she was in nothing more than a long, black negligee that she had planned to wear for Oliver. She glanced at her arm and saw that Marie was correct. Her tattoos had rearranged once more. The sprite wrenched her arm and led her to the top of the cellar stairs. Darria caught herself on the doorjamb and fought the pixie.

  “Thank you for watching out for me while I was asleep and keeping
me alive. I appreciate that. I’ll go down in a minute.” Darria sunk down on the top step and stared at the bottom of the stairs. The familiar pull of working in the room took over her, but she couldn’t shrug it off. Marie said that no bodies had appeared, and Darria didn’t sense anything. Mostly, it was the memories of all the times she had gone up and down those stairs and all the things she had done: the assassin posing as a hunter who tried to kill her after she shut up the gorgons back in purgatory, the times she would go down and arrange the tools for Abner, the times Oliver took a soul. Her heart ached at the knowledge that she was never going to see him again, feel his cold touch, or taste the tang of cloves on his lips. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She replayed the last time they had been together. All she felt was the absence of him. Heffla fluttered her wings at the bottom of the steps. Darria knew she wanted her to go down. The brush of the satin against her legs made her long for a touch she was never going to get.

  Darria walked down the worn, wooden steps as though she were doing it for the last time. Something had changed within her. She felt different, and yet, she felt the same. Closer to the bottom of the stairs, she heard something tapping—well, not tapping, exactly, but clacking against the stainless steel worktable. She touched the door only to find that it swung open easily when it shouldn’t have. Darria braced herself because at this point, she didn’t know what would jump out of the shadows. Energy crackled around her fingers and lit up her tattoos. The blue energy was cool, darkened at the tips with black.

  Darria stepped into the room and shivered. Her breath came out in a frozen mist that hung in the air. The flesh rose on her arms, but the cold didn’t affect her. A shrill whistle split the air, making her look up.

  Papa Legba leaned against the table. He wore a dark crimson suit that was almost black. “Don’t you look scrumptious? The last undertaker standing.”

  “What do you want, Legba? Have you come to collect Marie?”

  Amusement brightened his eyes. “I’ve already done that. No. I’m here to celebrate. I come bearing gifts.”